None of us is just good at writing, the first time or even the thousandth time: getting to the good stuff takes wading through an awful lot of mess on the way. And we can’t do that unless we’re willing to sit down and get our hands dirty. It’s a lot harder to wade in nothing than it is to wade in words you’re not quite done with.
What I’m saying here, simply, is that you have to get started. And to do that, you have to accept that what you start with isn’t going to be great.
I don’t know that I fully buy into Anne Lamott’s idea that we all write first drafts that are wholly, in their essence, awful–but I do think that giving ourselves permission to let go of perfection or even passability is important to get past the major hurdle of the blank white (screen, page, bark leaf: I don’t know your life). And we have to do that so we can start to see what we think and how we think it, so we have something to mold into something better on the next go-round.
We’re taught in many ways that what we write has to be much better than the kind of text we generate when we’re just talking as we think–and it does, eventually. Clear communication, especially with mostly-strangers, does take a different kind of organization and work than an intimate and casual conversation over a cuppa. But your first draft doesn’t have to accomplish those ends, it doesn’t have to be clear or logical, and it doesn’t have to do any work but the first step of getting what you want to say out of your head.
Even if it’s for a measly ten minutes, give yourself permission to just write. As Dory might say, just keep writing, just keep writing. Move your hands, over a keyboard or a page, and don’t erase what comes out. As you get better at this initial stage, you might find that the first draft grows seamlessly into the second into the third, and there aren’t clear delineations between the mess and the final masterpiece. But you won’t get to find out if you can’t get started.
Something Polished 