Encouragement for beginners: “Every first draft is perfect, because all a first draft has to do is exist.”

 

“First drafts are a writer’s agony and ecstasy,” writes K.M. Weiland.

 

“This is where your glistening ideas spill onto the page. This is where you get to play around with your ideas, see your characters grow and your themes mature.

 

“First drafts are fun. They’re your creative playground,” she continues.

 

“But,” she says, “when you start overthinking your first draft, that’s when everything starts feeling much more difficult.

 

“Our words on paper rarely measure up to the sparkling perfection of the ideas in our heads. . . . We want so badly to get our first drafts right. . . . And this is where we can run into problems.

 

“We can become obsessed about creating a perfect rough draft and end up totally psyching ourselves out.

 

“. . . You sit there and think about How to Be an Awesome Writer . . . [but] this is not a good plan,” she says.

 

If her words describe you,

I encourage you to relax.

Take a deep breath.

 

Later, you’ll revise and rewrite and edit,

but that’s not on your to-do list in the beginning.

And when you do revise and rewrite and edit,

don’t think it’s punishment!

Instead, think of it as polishing and beautifying your work.

 

Prepare to write several renderings

before you publish your memoir.

 

Your original version is merely your preliminary sketch.

 

That’s true for every writer.

 

“The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.”

Terry Pratchett

 

It’s your starting point.

 

For now, take in these words from Jane Smiley—comforting, encourage words:

 

“Every first draft is perfect,

because all a first draft has to do is exist.”

 

Shannon Hale looks at it this way:

 

“I’m writing a rough draft

and reminding myself

that I’m simply shoveling sand into a box

so that later I can build castles.”

 

Let’s think about that—about building castles.

 

“The turrets and spires . . . do not have to be built [in your rough draft]. All the little details can come later in your writing process. . . . Perfection is never expected,” says Makenna Myers.

 

“ . . . Don’t worry about your grammar or punctuation; let the words flow freely. . . .

 

“Sandcastles are wonderful because they are malleable. . . . If [later] you determine one of your main points isn’t working, that is no problem. Take it out and smash it like a tower of sand!

 

“Next time you feel overwhelmed by your first draft, tell yourself . . . you’re building a sandcastle. Don’t stress over the lack of perfection the first time around.” (Makenna Myers)

 

Even award-winning authors

write rough drafts.

 

For now, just get something in writing.

 

And keep in mind that your initial version

is for your eyes only.

 

Think of it as a foundation for what will one day be your completed memoir. 

 

Remember the old Chinese proverb: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

 

Taking that single step might be the most difficult, the most challenging, the most intimidating. After all, you’re facing the unknown, standing on unfamiliar ground.

 

But you need a starting point.

That point is the day you write your first draft.

 

And when you do,

celebrate your victory! Pat yourself on the back!

 

You’ll enjoy Janice Hardy’s words:

 

“There’s something exciting and rewarding about a first draft.  The story that’s been in our heads is finally down on paper. . . .”

 

Some of your initial work will sparkle.

Other parts might be awkward—maybe even a bit scruffy.

Perhaps you’ve written incomplete sentences.

A few memories are a bit fuzzy.

Grammar and spelling need help.

But that’s okay.

 

Your main goal is to get something in writing.

 

Later you can stand back and make fixes—

sometime in the future.

 

And be encouraged: Once you’ve penned one vignette, you’ll find that writing others will be easier.

 

Beginning your memoir takes courage. It requires commitment.

 

Once you take that first step

you will have embarked on a remarkable,

rewarding journey.

 

You will learn so much personally in the process of writing

 and, one day, when your memoir is complete,

your readers will find blessings, encouragement,

and inspiration for living their own lives.

 

Let your journey begin!

 

No one wants to stop reading to look up a word in a dictionary

 

“What does parsimonious mean?” my highly educated husband asked. Dave was reading Eisenhower in War and Peace, by Jean Edward Smith.

 

Parsimonious. I’d known of the word most of my life. It always reminded me of parsnips. But did I know what it meant?

 

Um . . . No, I didn’t. Neither did Dave, and we felt embarrassed.

 

I stood up, walked to my desk, and opened my thesaurus. Here’s what I read aloud to Dave:

 

not enough

retentive

mean

selfish

self-restrained

 

We were both still puzzled so I asked him to read me the sentence with parsimonious in it.

 

“Eisenhower . . . was parsimonious with the lives of the troops entrusted to his command. . . .”

 

Eisenhower was not enough with the lives of the troops?

Eisenhower was retentive with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was mean with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was selfish with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was self-restrained with the lives of his troops?

 

That last meaning, self-restrained, had potential, so I checked that out in the thesaurus: self-controlled, self-disciplined, restrained. Self-restraint also has to do with being frugal, temperate, not excessive, moderate, measured, limited.

 

We concluded Ike valued his troops’ lives and was frugal when it came to endangering them. He practiced self-restraint when it came to sending troops into harm’s way: He recognized the danger he could put them in but exercised restraint so no one would suffer or die unnecessarily. 

 

OK, that’s enough about parsimonious. My point is this: When you write your memoir, use words your readers will understand.

 

No one appreciates having to stand up, walk over to the bookshelf, take down the dictionary or thesaurus, and look up a word.

 

In fact, I suspect most readers simply won’t do it.

 

Your goal is to make it easy for everyone to read your memoir.

 

Many years ago, journalism instructors taught us to write for an eighth-grade audience. That’s not a typo. Eighth graders!

 

Recently I ran across that same advice.

 

And it’s good advice. It yields benefits:

 

“We shouldn’t discount simple writing,

but instead embrace it. . . .

We should aim to reduce complexity in our writing

as much as possible.

We won’t lose credibility in doing so.

Our readers will comprehend and retain

our ideas more reliably.

And we’ll have a higher likelihood

of reaching more people.”

Shane Snow,

“This Surprising Reading Level Analysis

Will Change the Way You Write” (emphasis mine)

 

You can still use interesting, expressive, musical, graphic, textured, dazzling words—words that zing—as long as they’re familiar to your readers, effective words like:

 

skedaddle

befuddle

jolly

jovial

harrumph

hooligan

ruffian

rascal

scaliwag

scoundrel

paunchy

tattered

merry

beguiling

spirited

whimsical

 

Dear William Zinsser wrote about the importance of choosing words: “Banality is the enemy of good writing. The challenge is to not write like everybody else.” Writers should avoid a word that’s merely serviceable—useful, practical—or dull, he said, and instead strive for freshness.

 

I jotted down a few simple yet vivid words penned by Zinsser in his Writing About Your Life:

 

a sea of codgers, codging the time away

a courtly man

a lofty wicker chair

he listened . . . with exquisite courtesy

a cultivated man

a rangy, easygoing man

a compact man

he had a scholar’s face: intelligent and quizzical

 

A word of caution: Use your dictionary and thesaurus wisely. Janice Hardy blogged about “an episode of Friends where the dumb-yet-lovable Joey wrote a letter of recommendation. To sound smart, he used the thesaurus and replaced all his ‘dumb’ words with ‘smart ones.’” Janice continued, “‘They’re warm, nice people with big hearts’ became ‘They’re humid, pre-possessing homo sapiens with full-sized aortic pumps.’”

 

So go ahead and use words with sparkle and pizzazz—just choose words that most people understand. 

 

No one wants to stop reading to look up a word in a dictionary

“What does parsimonious mean?” my highly-educated husband asked. He was reading Eisenhower In War and Peace, by Jean Edward Smith.

Parsimonious. I’d known of the word most of my life. It always reminded me of parsnips. But did I know what it meant?

Um… No, I didn’t. Neither did Dave, and we felt embarrassed.

I felt so embarrassed that I stood up, walked to my desk, and opened my thesaurus. Here’s what I found:

not enough

retentive

mean

selfish

self-restrained

Dave was still puzzled so I asked him to read me the sentence with parsimonious in it.

“Eisenhower…was parsimonious with the lives of the troops entrusted to his command….”

Eisenhower was not enough with the lives of the troops?

Eisenhower was retentive with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was mean with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was selfish with the lives of his troops?

Eisenhower was self-restrained with the lives of his troops?

That last meaning, self-restrained, had potential, so I checked that out in the thesaurus: self-controlled, self-disciplined, restrained. Self-restraint also has to do with being frugal, temperate, not excessive, moderate, measured, limited.

So Dave and I concluded Ike valued his troops’ lives and was frugal when it came to endangering them. He practiced self-restraint when it came to sending troops into harm’s way: He recognized the danger he could put them in but exercised restraint so no one would suffer or die unnecessarily.  

OK, that’s enough about parsimonious. My point is this: When you write your memoir, use words your readers will understand.

No one appreciates having to stand up, walk over to the bookshelf, take down the dictionary or thesaurus, and look up a word.

In fact, I suspect most readers simply won’t do it.

Your goal is to make it easy for everyone to read your memoir.

Many years ago, journalism instructors taught us to write for an eighth grade audience. That’s not a typo. Eighth graders!

Recently I ran across that same advice.*

And it’s good advice. It yields benefits:

“We shouldn’t discount simple writing,

but instead embrace it.

We should aim to reduce complexity in our writing

as much as possible.

We won’t lose credibility in doing so.

Our readers will comprehend and retain

our ideas more reliably.

And we’ll have a higher likelihood

of reaching more people.”

Shane Snow,

This Surprising Reading Level Analysis

Will Change the Way You Write; emphasis mine

You can still use interesting, expressive, musical, graphic, textured, dazzling words—words that zing—as long as they’re familiar to your readers, effective words like:

skedaddle

befuddle

jolly

jovial

harrumph

hooligan

ruffian

rascal

scaliwag

scoundrel

a blowhard

paunchy

tattered

merry

beguiling

spirited

whimsical

Dear William Zinsser wrote about the importance of choosing words: “Banality is the enemy of good writing. The challenge is to not write like everybody else.” Writers should avoid a word that’s merely serviceable—useful, practical—or dull, he said, and instead strive for freshness.

I jotted down of a few simple yet vivid words penned by Zinsser in his Writing About Your Life:

a sea of codgers, codging the time away

a courtly man

a lofty wicker chair

he listened…with exquisite courtesy

a cultivated man

a rangy, easygoing man

a compact man

he had a scholar’s face: intelligent and quizzical

A word of caution: Use your dictionary and thesaurus wisely. Janice Hardy blogged about “an episode of Friends where the dumb-yet-lovable Joey wrote a letter of recommendation. To sound smart, he used the thesaurus and replaced all his ‘dumb’ words with ‘smart ones.’”  Janice continued, “‘They’re warm, nice people with big hearts’ became ‘They’re humid, pre-possessing homosapiens with full-sized aortic pumps.’”

So go ahead and use words with sparkle and pizzazz—just choose words that most people understand.  

*Additional resources:

Pretentious and More: The Words Most Often Looked Up

Top NYT list of most frequently looked-up words