The First Draft of Anything is Shit…

All Hail the Wendigo (aka Chuck Wendig)

All Hail the Wendigo (aka Chuck Wendig)

1st Draft: Weee! Writing is so awesome and fun and look at all the cool ideas I have! This is great! I’m gonna be rich and famous and everybody is gonna read my book and LOVE it because it’s just awesome!!

2nd Draft: This story is even better now that I’ve cleaned up the rough spots. And oh look how complete it is with its fancy chapter fonts and clean margins and pretty formatting. Yes, pretty pretty manuscript. *pets computer monitor*

3rd Draft: Well that one part in the beginning there is kinda odd. It feels a little off to maybe but maybe no one will notice if I just nudge and smudge a little here and there. I mean, the rest is really great, who cares about this one part, right? Well, and maybe that other part in the middle…and the one at the end…

4th Draft: Ah screw it, that beginning part just doesn’t work. I’ll have to change it. Rework it? Or cut it? Yes, cut it. Ok, but then I’ve gotta rewrite the chapters in the later 3rd because those characters are there too. And the part in the middle because that’s where the foreshadowing is. So maybe if I just cut the whole lot…

5th Draft: I’ve cut out so much it’s not even a story anymore! This makes no sense! The story is going around in a downward spiral and ah no we’re all gonna die! Abort! ABORT!!!

6th Draft: I’m a freaking genius. Shut up. I don’t care what you think. I’ve just made it through the labyrinth of this story and I’m now such a master of puzzles I’m gonna go solve the mystery of life. See you at Starbucks in 12 hours. Why Starbucks? Because Starbucks is where the gate masters are. Didn’t they teach you this in school? Then what the hell did you spend all that money for?

7th Draft: This is bad. This is so very bad. I can’t publish this. Why would anybody read this? How did I even WRITE this? Holy hell my mind is a terrifying place, they should lock me up. Yes, if anyone ever reads this I’m going to be locked in a white-walled room for the rest of my life. Shh…please don’t tell them where I live. I don’t have anywhere else to hide…


9th Draft: I think I’ve somehow written my entire manuscript in Greek and I don’t know a word of Greek.

10th Draft: I’ve gotten this far, I can’t quit now. Maybe if I just adjust this a little and clean up this mess in the middle and nudge and smudge a little more and hopefully at some point it’ll actually make sense. Can I call a friend? I do have extra life’s left over, don’t I? What? I used them all up? Ah, c’mon, can’t a girl get a re-do? What, no I haven’t used the re-do already, I swear. Shut up. You’re really starting to piss me off, you know that? No really, I’m kicking you out now.

11th Draft: My mom doesn’t hate it. That doesn’t mean she likes it. She hasn’t said anything about locking me in a mental institution, so that’s promising. Unless it’s all a diversion. *hides under desk*

12th Draft: Wait, what? It’s done? It’s okay? It’s actually readable enough I won’t die of embarrassment by sending it to an editor? Really, you think they’ll like it? You’re lying, I can tell. I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to get me out of your house. Well screw you and your prime-time television, that’s why they invented DV-Rs. Okay fine, whatever. I’m gonna go rewrite the whole damn book.

13th Draft: So, I didn’t actually rewrite it, you called my bluff. I’m not giving in that easy. No, it’s not perfect, but really, will it ever be? Now I’m gonna go pay someone to clean up my poopy manuscript. I’ll let you know if their eyes fall out because then I guess our deal is off. But for now I’m winning this bet, bitch.


Speak now or forever hold your peace.

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