Why Writers Need to be Imperfect

Put your inner editor in her place so you create something you can improve on.

This morning I read a post here on Medium called How to be Creative by matt richtel that had this one little line that really struck a chord for me.

You can’t improve on something if you don’t let it exist in an imperfect form.

Because YES. This is why I love to edit. This is why Anne Lamott’s advice to write shitty first drafts is a guiding light for me. And I think this is what separates the people have creative careers from the people who just really want to, but think they can’t.

Peter Drucker said, “If you can’t measure it, you can’t improve it.”

Listen to me. You can’t measure a novel if you don’t write it. You can’t measure anything until you’ve produced some form of it. Even a house, which really needs to be built right the first time, has blueprints that are created and improved upon.

So, I started to think about the thing that holds writers back. Why do I know so many people who want to be writers, but don’t actually write?

And you know what? I really believe it’s the urge to be perfect that kills creativity.

What if I write this novel and it’s not good enough to be published?

Guess what? Go ahead and assume that if you’re writing your first novel it’s not going to be good enough to be published.

Seriously. A first novel, especially the first draft of a first novel, is very, very rarely ever good enough. Assume you’re not Harper Lee and resign yourself to producing a crappy first effort.

It’s okay. Really.

As long as your second effort is better. And your third is better than that. Eventually you’ll improve on your imperfection enough.

But I can’t move on until this sentence is perfect. Duh!

Oh. Yes, you can.

You really can. I promise.

This happens to be my own personal bugaboo. So I don’t let myself edit while I’m writing. Ever.

I’m doing this experiment where I adopt Maya Angelou’s writing ritual for a month. Maya Angelou obviously did not have the same issues I do, because she said she edited as she wrote. That was her process.

Obviously, it didn’t stop her from finishing what she started.

It’s fine if you want to be an edit-while-you-write writer — as long as that process doesn’t result in you looking up a decade later and realizing that you’re still only half done writing your first novel.

Seriously, though. I’m a perfectionist. It’s just who I am.

Okay. Let’s talk about inner editors.

Your inner editor is that voice inside your head that tells you that your sentence isn’t perfect enough.

Your story is stupid.

You’re a complete hack — a total fraud — and what exactly do you think you’re doing anyway, writing down your stupid story full of imperfect sentences?

Your inner editor will try to convince you, when you’re working on your first draft, to leave the writing to the professionals.

You’ve heard that voice, right? I know you have. I have, too.

Every writer comes with an inner editor, standard issue.

If you want to be a working writer who is sometimes published and has readers and, you know, a career — you have to figure out a way to work with your inner editor so that you actually produce imperfect drafts.

So that you have something to improve on.

Today I’m going to teach you my trick for coping with mine.

First though, let me tell you something that’s super important.

You actually need an inner editor.

That’s why this post is titled “How to Put Your Inner Editor in Her Place” and not “How to Kill Your Inner Editor.”

You don’t want to make yours go away completely. It’s only when that voice kicks in too soon that things go pear-shaped.

When your first draft is finished and you need to look at your story with a critical eye? That’s when you can invite that editor out to play. And I promise, when the time is right, it won’t be so awful having that voice around.

But for now? For now you need to write your shitty first draft.

The Blythe Assignment

I want you to personify your inner editor.

Seriously, go ahead and give her a name. Or him. Or it. Or they. Whatever.

My inner editor is a woman. Her name is Blythe.

Blythe is middle-aged and too made-up, a bottle blonde, kind of trying too hard not to be frumpy in a weirdly Gothic way. She’s also super smart and really knows her stuff, but she can be a bitch about it.

She’s kind of a cross between Mrs. Havisham and Joey’s agent on Friends. Remember her?

Can you picture your inner editor?

Good. Now, here’s the trick: I want you to give your inner editor a safe place to live when she isn’t working.

Blythe lives in a gold cage in my head. Like a bird cage, with a pretty lavender velvet cover that keeps her quiet until I need to bring her out to do her stuff.

When I’m in revision, and actually need Blythe, she doesn’t have time to tell me that I suck or that if I’m not careful everyone on Earth will realize what a Grade-A fraud I am.

She’s too busy doing what she’s really good at — making my story shine.

Get out your notebook and free write about your inner editor.

Give her a name and a description — and then imagine how you’ll keep her in line inside your own head. You can borrow my bird cage, or maybe you need a turret to lock yours in. Or an underwater palace for her to live in with her Mermaid wife.

It doesn’t really matter, as long as it’s something that lets you imagine having control over when she comes out and when she stays locked up.

Remember, when you’re drafting, your Blythe needs to be on lock down. When you’re revising, let her out to do their job.

And, always, always, always, remember that YOU are in charge.

Here’s my secret weapon for sticking with whatever your thing is.

Shaunta Grimes is a writer and teacher. She is an out-of-place Nevadan living in Northwestern PA with her husband, three superstar kids, two dementia patients, a good friend, Alfred the cat, and a yellow rescue dog named Maybelline Scout. She’s on Twitter @shauntagrimes and is the author of Viral Nation and Rebel Nation and the upcoming novel The Astonishing Maybe. She is the original Ninja Writer.