The Rough Draft
A. R. Bledsoe
I started the first weeks of my writing journey with gusto. My fingertips punched the keys on my iPad’s metal keyboard so fast that the lettering on them began to fade. I was convinced I was a literary genius. I couldn’t wait to share what I was writing with the world.
Naturally, I shared my pride and joy with my little sister. Now to give you an idea of her importance in my life and my storytelling: she is the same age as my projected audience for my books (10 years old). She is my number one cheerleader who convinced me to turn my stories into written form. When I say she’s my biggest supporter and fan- she once listened to me tell the story I am currently writing for SIX HOURS on a car ride from Florida to Tennessee. Three weeks ago my number one fan listened to a chapter I had written- from the same story mind you- for five whole minutes and got bored. She asked in the nicest way if we could “do something else.” I was devastated. The literary gold I had written failed to captivate my number one fan.
I went back to my writing with a hyper-critical eye. Nothing was good anymore. What I thought was good, was not good. I became confused and insecure with every sentence that I produced.
Where had I gone wrong? I asked myself.
So where did I go wrong? I have an idea of what might have made that chapter boring. Sometimes I get so caught up in the details of the world that I lose the story. Other times I am too focused on the story and important details get left out making it feel vague and watered down. The thing is, I don’t know what’s wrong until I finish writing. Even then, I might not ever catch the issues unless it’s pointed out to me.
Last week I finally understood the lesson: a rough draft isn’t meant for the consumer to read, it’s meant for the editor to edit. In that situation with my sister, I read to the wrong audience. The work I have right now, sitting in my Bear app (an amazing writing app by the way) is my rough draft. It is the rough, raw workings of my brain. The words that litter the story are misshapen and rugged at best. They call for some sanding down and a layer or two of paint.
So far, I have only taken one art class, and it was the most helpful class I’ve ever had. It was over three hours a week from about 6 to 9:45 PM. It was the only class at that hour of the night in the basement of my community college. What’s worse is the basement was attached to their police academy shooting range. I found this out after my first class in the school parking lot when I heard rounds go off and practically dove behind my car.
My art teacher would disappear into a closet in our large dim-lit classroom and come out with all sorts of things he could carry in his arms. He would dump them onto the table and tell us to draw. We would sit and draw for three hours straight. The things one would find in the closet of a college basement were disturbing. At one point there was a full-bodied dummy, a vase, an apple, and all sorts of crumpled-up paper and cloths. It was a mess. I would leave the three-hour class each night with a drawing I couldn’t recognize, nor call it art. I became discouraged with my drawing skills.
For the final project, he had us pick out a photo we wanted to draw. At the time I was obsessed with white tigers so I picked one of two fighting white tigers. He had us use a square drawing method, which involved redrawing a photo square by square instead of sketching an outline first.
This project took me six weeks to finish. Every time I worked on it I battled discouragement and fear. It looked nothing like the photo of two fighting tigers. The squares looked like disjointed shades of black and white. Panic would well up in me as I worked on square after square until I would have to step away and not think about it for a while.
I remember when the squares finally came together. It was the final week leading up to the project reveal for my class. I stepped back from my work at one point and nearly cried tears of relief. Not only could I recognize the tigers in the photo, but they were also near-exact replicas. When I presented it to the class I got many positive responses. My teacher commented, “With a little more fine adjustments, this would be exact.”
This memory came back to me today as I write. It’s a beautiful illustration of what being an artist is. You have to press on in your work even when what you see right now isn’t what you have pictured in your head. It’s a terrifying act of faith, believing that your work will not be in vain- that people will appreciate and see the same thing you had seen all along.
It’s a terrifying act of faith, believing that your work will not be in vain--that people will appreciate and see the same thing you have seen all along.
If you have a dream or a goal share it with others- just keep in mind it might be wise to save your rough draft for the editor. Only you can see what it will be. Skilled artists and writers might be able to catch on, but only you right now understand how amazing it is even in its current state. Press on. Edit and edit some more. Layer on the primer and the paint and don’t stop chipping away at your work until it’s fully revealed. However, always remember the wise words of Bob Ross: An artist knows when to be done [with their masterpiece].
Insecurity will either beat you in the rough draft or keep you forever in the editing phase. Learn to embrace the apparent weaknesses in your work. Those things can be fixed. I imagine the worst possible scenario is when you become blind to your weaknesses. Your work will never become better, it will never have the chance to reach its potential. You will be stuck spinning in circles asking why no one understands your work, rather than looking for ways to make it better.
Like I said in my last post, my mornings are an invaluable time for me. It helps refocus my priorities and understanding that, per my beliefs, God is in control and filling in the gaps where I am weak. On that note, I leave you with the perfect verse I found in my morning’s reading for today’s blog.
Insecurity will either beat you in the rough draft or keep you forever in the editing phase.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.2 Corinthians 12:9
