If you didn't already know, I'm writing a romance series. Right now, I'm knee-deep into shitty first draft territory.
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It's awful β but it's progress β and I'm loving it.
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This is something I've been thinking about a lot lately, the beautiful disaster that is a first draft. You know, that document that looks like it was written by a caffeine-possessed raccoon who just found the trash dump?
Me, during my nightly zoomies. More on that, later.
Yeah, that one.
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I'm here to tell you something you really don't wanna hear: That hot mess is GOLD.
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Not "I found a cool old coin on the sidewalk" gold. I'm talking "discovered a semi-haunted treasure chest while burying my ex planting a rose bush in my backyard" gold.
Priceless. Essential. Downright good trash.
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In case you didn't already know this, your first draft isn't supposed to be perfect.
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No, not even yours, you high-achieving, unbelievably ambitious, lives-and-breathes-creativity, is-supposed-to-be-the-successful-one, can't-share-until-it's-perfect, chaotic creatrix, you.
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Your first draft isn't supposed to be your debut novel.
It's just supposed to exist. Full stop.
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Pro tip I've learned the hard way: The delete key is NOT your friend during a first draft. Neither is self-judgment. That particular dynamic duo is like that toxic ex who keeps trying to convince you to sleep with them "just one last time, so we can move on."
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Nope. Not today, Satan.
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And when I say first draft, know I mean of whatever your thing is. Because it applies across the board. Your novel, your art piece, your repeating pattern, your music, your dance, your TikTok, your YouTube video, your newsletter, your sourdough, whatever.
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For me, it's often all of those things (hello, love letter to myself), but most days it's my novel.
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My current novel started as a late-night "What would you be if..." imagination exercise with my husband that spiraled out of control when I had the zoomies.
Now it's... well, still a bit of a mess. But it's MY mess. And that makes it inherently unique and beautiful.
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In fact, for a little imperfect progress check in:
This week, I wrote 3,873 words that are 50% brilliant, 40% questionable, and 10% "There's no fucking way that's making it in the final draft." And you know what? I'm throwing a damn parade for myself.
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Well... more like I'm going to a Mardi Gras parade and pretending it's for me, but that's beside the point!
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Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
Create something so gloriously terrible that it makes you laugh. Bonus points if you share it with your creative bestie. Double bonus points if you share it with me.
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Flourishing messily in creative chaos,
Baylee Jennings
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P.S.
If you're reading this and all like, "Hell yes, I'm so fucking done shoving my creative baby in a corner and telling her not to come out until she's perfect," I highly suggest you check out The Creatrix Collective.
I meannnnnn, come on
Creatrix is the result of a New Year's Day fever dream from my dear, gorgeous friend Emily Pennystone, and it is everything I've always wanted in an online creative community β plus so much more.
Think book club meets creative reawakening meets online sleepover with the most badass, inspiring, creative women in the world... Because that's what it is.
(And to join costs less than your daily Starbucks run π wtf)
βCheck it out here, it's fucking amazing. I'm already in there and literally have a countdown timer on my home screen for our first call on the spring equinox.
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