“Well, that writing was a huge waste of time.”
I can’t tell you how much I hear this in general, let alone in regard to writing. Whether you’re drafting a novel, writing a blog, or just trying to type up a quick post you can’t seem to get right, through the frustration of writing, rewriting, then frantically deleting and vomiting up something new, it’s all too easy to feel like anything less than perfect writing is a waste of time.
But here’s a dirty little industry secret: No writing is a waste of time. Ever.
Don’t believe me? Here’s three things you can do with your “wasted writing” right now.
Recycle It
Ah, yes. The old “reduce, reuse, and recycle.” Your draft may feel like junk, but that doesn’t mean all of it’s junk. When I’m writing a novel, I always keep a file called “The Island of Misfit Toys,” named for the disturbingly charming wasteland of rejects from Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer—the Claymation, of course. Even if there are sentences, paragraphs, or even entire chapters I end up cutting out, I don’t just delete them. I make sure to cut and paste them onto the island just in case I change my mind or want to reuse the material later.
You’d be surprised what I’ve managed to repurpose. In one case, an entire novel. But maybe there’s an idea, a phrase, or a theme that just isn’t working in your text. That doesn’t mean it won’t click for you tomorrow, the next day, or even in a few months.
Don’t be afraid to repurpose and repackage your own work. After all, it’s good for the planet.
Ferment that Waste of Time
There’s something to be said for letting things mature on their own schedule. Whether it’s marinating chicken, fermenting wine, or letting a good cheese ripen (mmm… time for dinner), it’s important to let things come into their own in their own time.
Writing is no different. You might whip something up, read it back to yourself, and immediately judge it to be the scum of the earth and furtively delete it lest anyone else lay eyes on your monstrosity. Trust me. I’ve been there.
But knee-jerk reactions aren’t fair, and oftentimes, they’re far from accurate. You’re going to be much more reactionary the moment after writing than you after giving your work time and space to breathe. Your adrenaline will be pumping; you’ll be drunk on the thrill of completion. With all those emotions at play, it’s impossible to give your work an honest assessment until you’ve taken some time away from it.
Ben Franklin famously read, copied, annotated, summarized, then paraphrased works he admired—not just once, but multiple times. This is (anecdotally and self-proclaimed in his biography) how he became such an amazingly persuasive writer. He gave himself time for his words and his skills to ferment, and he was diligent about sticking to his process.
So give yourself a break. Let the words and the text settle. Let your ideas ripen like a delicious blue cheese and allow the process to take shape.
Learn from that Waste of Time
Writing is a bit like painting or mushing a sled dog team through the Iditarod. There are just some things you have to learn by doing. I know I’ve praised the sh*tty first draft before, and this ties right into my point. No writing is a waste of time because you’re learning something simply by doing it. Every time you drum something up, you’re going to get a little better, and you’re never going to have anything to learn from if you don’t have somewhere to start.
I always encourage my authors to read/edit material above and below their writing level. Why? Because better writing will show you where to go, and less developed writing will show you how to get there. Once you have a clear idea of what not to do and why, you’re going to have a much better understanding of what to do and why you need to do it. “Show, don’t tell” is one of my favorite examples. Once you learn what an info-dump is, what it looks like, and how to fix it, you can’t “unsee” this massive (but common) writing mistake. You’ll learn what to do instead, how to parcel out information organically in a way that leaves readers with pertinent questions while winding up the tension at an appropriate pace.
It’s not just about writing better. It’s about learning how to write better. And the only way to do that is (you guessed it) by writing.
Whether you recycle your writing, Frankenstein it with other excerpts to create something brand-new, shelve it for maturity, or even use it as a learning experience, so long as you’ve articulated your thoughts—given your ideas space to grow, develop, and take on a life of their own—you’ve made progress.
No writing is a waste of time. Ever. Even if you don’t immediately post the text to your Instagram or catapult your novel, hot off the press, to the nearest publisher, there’s always something to glean from the sheer experience of putting words down on paper.
No step forward, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, is ever a waste of time.
Photo credit to Julia Maior.