Read if you hate your rough drafts

Why perfectionism kills more dreams than rejection ever will

I need to tell you something that might save your creative life, but it's going to challenge everything you think you know about what "good writing" looks like.

Your first draft is supposed to be terrible.

Not just imperfect. Not just rough around the edges. Actually, genuinely, embarrassingly bad. That's not a flaw in your process—that's the point of the process.

But somewhere along the way, you started believing that real writers produce beautiful, polished work in their first attempt. You started thinking that struggling with your opening chapter means you're not cut out for this. You started using the quality of your rough draft as evidence of your worth as a writer.

How do I know? Because as I transitioned from screenwriting into novel writing, I did the same thing. Thought the same things. Felt the same way about my draft. I still struggle with the fact that writing a screenplay comes “easy” to me, but writing novels makes me feel like I’m starting back at square one.

Because I am. But the truth of writing first drafts… a truth that I have to remind myself of daily is this.

Writing a first draft and believing it will represent my best work isn’t a creative standard. It’s creative suicide.

Welcome to the Monday Night edition of your Monday Writing Motivation.

Here's what I've learned from years of rewriting the same scenes dozens of times, from studying how professional writers actually work, and from watching perfectionism destroy more talented writers than market forces ever could: The writers who succeed aren't the ones who write perfect first drafts. They're the ones who write terrible first drafts and keep going anyway.

Marcus Aurelius wrote, "The impediment to action advances action. What stands in the way becomes the way." Your terrible first draft isn't standing in the way of your good story. It’s the only way to discover your good story. Better yet— to writing that great story the world needs.

This is my Monday Motivation post, and I need this reminder as much as you do. Because last week I spent three days paralyzed over the opening paragraph of a short story, rewriting the same two sentences until they lost all life and meaning. I was trying to write a perfect first draft instead of writing a functional first draft I could fix later.

Also, my Intro to Creative Writing class is hard. Mostly because it’s confronting me with having to tackle new types of writing I haven’t ever done. Making me put myself out there. And I’m here for it.

Perfectionism disguises itself as high standards, but it's actually fear wearing a fancy mask.

So, what is the perfectionism trap? How can you overcome it? And what mindset shift can you make today to start turning every first draft into your secret writing weapon?

Let’s find out.

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The Perfectionism Trap

Perfectionism tells you that good writers don't struggle with bad writing. It whispers that if you were really talented, the words would flow effortlessly onto the page in beautiful, polished sentences.

That's not how writing works. That's not how anything creative works.

Trust me. I wish creativity and flow worked that way. My life would be so much easier, I would finish drafts so much faster. I wouldn’t get notes back from my structural editor for my new horror novel saying that my entire third act doesn’t work.

But the reality? I did. And now I have a new creative adventure to go on as I wrap my head around the notes and dive into another draft.

Yet the moment I read through them I thought—

I should quit because the quality of that first draft reflected my potential as a writer.

Then I started reading about how other writers work. Anne Lamott calls first drafts "shitty first drafts" and says they're essential to the creative process. Hemingway said, "The first draft of anything is shit." Toni Morrison rewrote the opening of Beloved more than thirty times.

These weren't writers who lacked talent. These are writers who understood that first drafts serve a different purpose than final drafts.

Don’t think of first drafts as a place to create good writing. If you want to transform your writing process from the start, understand that first drafts are a place of discovery. Discovering what you’re trying to say.

So…

What Are First Drafts Actually For?

Your first draft has one job: to exist. That's it. Not to be good, not to be impressive, not to prove your worth as a writer. Just to exist, so you have something to work with.

Think of it like a sculptor's first rough cut. When Michelangelo started carving David, he didn't expect the first chisel strikes to reveal perfect anatomy. He was just removing large chunks of marble to find the general shape of what he was creating.

Your first draft is removing large chunks of possibility to find the general shape of your story.

The real work happens in revision. That's where you discover what your story is actually about, where you find your characters' real voices, where you uncover the themes that were hiding beneath your initial ideas.

But you can't revise a blank page. You need that terrible first draft to have something to improve.

Seneca taught that "every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." Your perfect story begins when your imperfect first draft ends.

But if that’s true, how does perfectionism stop incredible writers from sharing their stories—their magic—with the world?

I like to call it…

The Perfectionism Death Spiral

So, you’re stuck. You’re in the middle of drafting and you hate it. Welcome to the perfectionism death spiral.

Here's how perfectionism kills creative dreams:

• Step 1: You sit down to write with unrealistic expectations about what should come out of your first attempt.

• Step 2: Your writing doesn't match those expectations (because it's a first draft, and first drafts are supposed to be rough).

• Step 3: You interpret this gap as evidence that you're not good enough to be a writer.

• Step 4: You either quit entirely or get stuck in endless revision loops where you polish the same paragraph instead of moving forward.

• Step 5: You never finish anything because nothing ever feels good enough to be done.

The spiral always ends the same way: with abandoned projects and creative dreams deferred until "someday when you're better."

But here's the thing about someday: it never comes.

You don't get better at writing by thinking about writing, researching writing, or planning to write. You get better at writing by writing—badly, messily, imperfectly—and then rewriting until it's good.

Want to know a secret? I’m stuck in this loop all the time.

But how do you get out of it? One word… Permission.

The Permission to Suck

What if I told you that giving yourself permission to write badly is actually the fastest path to writing a great script, novel, or poem?

When you release yourself from the pressure to be perfect on the first try, something magical happens: you start taking creative risks.

You try things that might not work.

You follow interesting tangents.

You let your characters surprise you.

Perfect first drafts are safe first drafts. And safe first drafts rarely contain anything worth reading.

When I finally gave myself permission to write a terrible first draft of my YA adaptation, the story came alive in ways it never had when I was trying to make every sentence perfect. Characters started saying things I didn't expect. Plot developments surprised me. The authentic voice I'd been searching for finally emerged.

The permission to suck is actually permission to discover what you're really trying to create.

Epictetus taught that we should focus on what's within our control. The quality of your first draft isn't within your control—that comes from skill you develop over time. But your willingness to write that first draft anyway? That's completely within your control.

The Professional Secret

Here's what professional writers know that beginning writers don't: the magic happens in revision, not in initial creation.

Professional writers don't write better first drafts than you do. They just understand that first drafts are raw material, not finished products. They know that a bad first draft is infinitely more valuable than a perfect story that exists only in their head.

The difference between professional writers and aspiring writers isn't talent—it's their relationship with imperfection.

When I teach high school students about writing, I see how naturally they understand this concept until adults teach them to be afraid of making mistakes. Young writers will throw wild ideas onto paper without worrying about whether they're "good enough." They understand instinctively that you have to start somewhere.

Somewhere along the way, we lose that fearlessness and replace it with paralysis.

But you can get it back. You can remember that writing is discovery, not demonstration. You can embrace the mess as part of the process instead of evidence of failure.

The First Draft Mindset Shift

Instead of asking "Is this good?" ask "Is this real?"

Instead of trying to impress, try to express. Instead of crafting perfect sentences, craft honest ones. Instead of worrying about what readers will think, focus on what you're trying to understand about your characters, your story, your themes.

Your first draft is a conversation with yourself about what your story could become. It's not a performance for anyone else.

The goal isn't to get it right. The goal is to get it down.

Marcus Aurelius wrote, "Confine yourself to the present." In first drafts, confine yourself to the sentence you're writing right now, not to the perfect story you hope to eventually create.

The Courage to Continue

It takes courage to write a first draft knowing it will be imperfect. It takes even more courage to share that imperfect work with others for feedback. And it takes the most courage of all to revise that draft, over and over, until it becomes something worth reading.

But this courage—the courage to be imperfect while learning—is what separates writers who publish books from writers who talk about someday publishing books.

Every published author has a drawer full of terrible first drafts. (I have four of them right now and counting.) The difference is they didn't let those terrible first drafts convince them to quit. They used them as stepping stones to better second drafts, better third drafts, better final drafts.

Your Imperfection Permission Slip

Right now, in this moment, you have permission to:

• Write sentences that don't flow perfectly

• Create dialogue that sounds stilted on the first try

• Develop characters who feel flat until you revise them into life

• Craft plots that have holes you'll fix later

• Use placeholder words when you can't find the perfect ones

• Tell instead of show, then fix it in revision

• Write scenes that serve no purpose except to help you understand your story

• Create first chapters that will end up being chapter three in the final draft

• Produce work that embarrasses you now but teaches you what you need to know

Your first draft doesn't need to be good. It needs to be finished.

The Practice of Imperfection

This week, I challenge you to write something intentionally imperfect.

Set a timer for 15 minutes and write the worst possible opening to a story you've been afraid to start. Don't edit. Don't second-guess. Don't worry about whether it's any good.

Just write badly on purpose. See what happens when you remove the pressure to be perfect and focus only on putting words on paper.

You might discover that your "bad" writing contains seeds of something interesting. You might find that removing the pressure to be perfect actually helps you access ideas you couldn't reach when you were trying too hard.

Most importantly, you might remember what it feels like to write without fear.

Seneca wrote, "It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, who is poor." Don't let the craving for perfection make you poor in creative output.

Your terrible first draft is better than no draft at all.

What story have you been afraid to start because you can't imagine writing it perfectly? What creative project is waiting for you to give yourself permission to do it badly before you do it well?

Drop it in the comments and let's celebrate the courage to create imperfectly. Because the world needs your messy, flawed, human attempts at making meaning more than it needs your perfect story that never gets written.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. Now go write it anyway.

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