Write a Bad Book First

There is really only one rule to writing a book, and that is you can’t stop. Not until you’re done. Not until that first draft is complete.

It’s easy to start a book. Almost everyone has done it. Who, after all, hasn’t said out loud to themselves, “I should write a book someday!” Or heard someone else say, usually after you’ve shared some incredible story, “You should write a book!”

And yet, most people never do. That’s because they misunderstand what it takes to get a book written. It doesn’t matter what this thing is about, how you structure it, or how wonderful your ideas are—if you don’t finish.

Finishing takes discipline, and that requires, to most people’s surprise, that you write a bad book first. Don’t try to create a “work of art” or a piece of “staggering genius” (it’s already been done). Instead, write a bad book, a really bad one—yours, not someone else’s.

Why a bad book? Because all first drafts of anything are crap, at least by comparison to what they could become, provided you stick with the process.

It’s been said that all good writing is rewriting, and that’s my experience. Everything gets better with time, practice, and perspective. Revising, discarding, and starting over are all part of the drafting process.

Which is all well and good unless you are not expecting any of this. Unless you believe that the first, second, or third draft of your book will be amazing. It will not be. Not even close. But what you will start to see, as you revise, is that the book starts talking to you. It tells you what it wants to be, what works and what doesn’t, where you need more “telling” and less “showing,” and so on.

By writing a “shitty first draft,” you are getting a vision of the book, what’s actually possible. Try to expect that. Or else you will encounter a world of disappointment.

I don’t know anyone who gets this right the first time. No one. I do, however, know a lot of failed first-time authors who quit their book somewhere in the middle of writing it, because of how discouraged they felt at how terrible the writing was.

Look, I get it. Currently, I’m working on my sixth book, and I’ve collaborated on something like thirty titles in total. Even now, halfway through a project, I will go for a walk with my wife and complain that I don’t know what the hell this thing is about, if it even matters, or if I’m about to get found out for the fraud that I know I am. Even ghostwriters struggle with impostor syndrome.

I tell my clients and students that starting a book project is like boarding a train. You don’t have to know where it’s headed or even how long the ride is going to take. You just need to board the train and not get off. Trust the process. Stick to it. Commit, and this train will bring you somewhere.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We’re nowhere near the completion of your first draft. We’re just talking about starting. So what do you do after you have an idea for a book and have taken the time to outline it? What then?

Well, you start writing, of course. But what does that mean? It means you start with some excitement.

My first book editor was a guy named Randall, who gave me a shot with a smaller independent publisher, offering me a $6,000 advance. I made something like $3,000 a month at the time (this was 2011), so I was thrilled to get paid two months’ wages for a project I would have done for free.

Once we had a signed contract, I asked Randall: “What do I do now?”

He said, “Start in the place you are most excited about. It doesn’t have to be the beginning.”

That was great advice. And what I eventually came to understand from it was to not get hung up on details. Just start. It’s all going to change anyway. Get out of your head, get your fingers moving. The rest will come in time. It’s true.

To this day, I still begin a book somewhere in the middle, someplace that represents what I am most excited about writing. I do this to get the cobwebs out, so that I don’t feel stuck. Sometimes, that place ends up being the beginning. Often, it’s not. But the point is I stop thinking and start writing. Everything after that is a function of that engine.

John Steinbeck said that the way he wrote stories was that he tried to get them down as quickly as possible and never backtrack to the beginning until the first draft was complete. He did this, he said, because it helped him get the first draft out of his head. And at some point, something took over. Something that was not him.

There is a mystery to this process, and almost anyone who’s waded deep enough into it will tell you that. Most artists don’t know where their best ideas come from. They just know they’re lucky enough to bring a few to life.

Books are that way too, I think. Certainly the best ones are. That doesn’t mean you can’t plot or plan, that you shouldn’t “world build.” It just means that none of these activities are the same as writing.

So you start—somewhere that excites you—and you write. You do it quickly, in hopes of some strange magic visiting you, as it did Steinbeck, and you keep going until the end. Trust the flow. Don’t get upset when you run dry and it starts to feel like work. That’s what a schedule is for, which we’ll cover later.

For now, begin; and let that beginning be your rocket fuel, propelling you to your ultimate destination, which is not a Pulitzer. It’s just a shitty first draft, the first of many stops. Sure, you can get out, stretch your legs, see some sights. But just make sure you get back on the damn train and finish the ride.

That’s the process. Your first goal is a bad book, not because you want to keep it that way, but because that’s where we all initially land. The good news is once you have a bad book, you can make it better.

P.S. This is Part 3 of my series on the writing process. If you missed Part 1, go here. Part 2 is here. You can also see the full summary of that series and how I’m documenting the journey of writing my sixth book.

Last week, I shared the process of getting a book deal with a major publisher and what I’ve learned over the years about book proposals, querying, and all that.

You can listen to that here (if you’re a paid sub).

P.P.S. Did you miss the announcement about our next writing retreat in France? There’s still time to apply!