I used to think the phrase “shitty first draft” was a little crass. Maybe even unnecessary. Why not just write a decent first draft, something respectable? But then I realized that staring at a blank page, waiting for perfect prose to flow, is the quickest way to fall into a black hole of self-doubt. Thanks to Anne Lamott’s “Shitty First Drafts,” I’ve come to see the magic in letting go of that pressure. Sometimes, you just need to make a mess.
There’s something liberating about giving myself permission to write badly. Really badly. I used to feel paralyzed by the idea that every sentence had to be fully formed before I put it down. If it wasn’t, I was somehow a failure. But Lamott’s concept of letting it “all pour out and then let it romp all over the place” changed my relationship with writing. Now, instead of obsessing over each word, I try to follow her advice and let the words tumble out without restraint. It doesn’t matter if they’re awkward, cringeworthy, or don’t make much sense. It only matters that they’re there, editing can come later.
For someone like me, who often finds writer’s block staring back from the blank page, this method is a godsend. It also feels like a lifeline for those of us whose brains don’t always cooperate—ADHD, obsessive ruminations, the chaos of too many thoughts at once. The idea of writing a shitty first draft is like turning off the inner critic and letting the chaos spill out. It’s messy. That’s the point. There’s real beauty in embracing that mess. It’s where the good stuff hides.
Let’s be honest, life itself is messy. Writing, like life, rarely comes out perfectly on the first try. Lamott’s idea that the first draft is the “child’s draft” resonated with me because it encourages playfulness. Creative exploration without worrying about the rules. You write whatever comes to mind, even if it’s “Well, so what, Mr. Poopy Pants?” (as Lamott so lovingly puts it). No one is going to see it anyway, and there’s something freeing in that privacy. Permission to be utterly imperfect.
Now, when I sit down to write, I tell myself my job isn’t to be good, it’s just to start, to write anything. Absolutely anything. Let it be as shitty as it needs to be and it works. That blank page doesn’t look so intimidating when I know my only goal is to fill it with words, no matter how ugly. Lamott gave me the courage to be messy, to embrace the chaos, and to trust that somewhere in the muck, there might be something worth polishing.
Maybe you’ve struggled with your own version of the blank page—a project at work, a tough conversation. Deciding where to start when everything feels overwhelming. Maybe Lamott’s idea could help you too: Just start. Write the shitty first draft. Make the messy first move. Let yourself be imperfect. You can always fix it later.
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