The Horror of the First Draft

It seems fitting that I should choose to write about first drafts on Halloween because, 

sometimes, they prove to be truly ghastly. 

I write historical saga trilogies. I develop a fully fleshed out synopsis, run it past my agent (who dislikes as many of my ideas as she finds intriguing), and gain the sign-off of my publisher before I even open a new document, give it a file name and start to type. So, you would think that, with everything worked out beforehand, pouring out the first draft would be a doddle. 

If only that were true.

Despite all of that preparation, my first drafts are generally horrible messy affairs with clunky prose, muddled themes and plot holes aplenty. However, as I have come to learn, that is the point. All I am doing when I bash away at that first draft is getting the idea out of my head and into a format for eventual editing. The first draft is where I am getting to understand the characters in a far more meaningful way than is possible by working out their backstory beforehand. Only through drafting can I begin to see how they behave, interact with others, and respond to adversity. Almost without fail, they surprise and delight me by thinking for themselves and acting of their own accord.

My first draft is also where I sort out the order of events and the timeline. I might have stated in my synopsis that x happens – but how does it? Where are my characters when it happens? What triggers the event? Do they respond to it in a way that is true to their motivation? What is their motivation? Sometimes, what looked good in a plan, simply doesn't work out in the telling. My first draft might show me that events, as I foresaw them in the synopsis, need to happen differently. 

Perhaps the hardest and most unrecognised challenge with a first draft, though, is finding the novel's voice – not just the style of my prose but the way my protagonist recounts events. For me, settling upon the story's voice often involves a number of false starts. My style of prose changes very little from one series of books to another; the characters' own voices vary widely and take time to develop. The good thing is that usually, about half way through the draft, I realise I have become comfortable enough to stop thinking about it and just write.

So, what nuggets have I gleaned from drafting my last ten novels? I would say –

• not to challenge or veto spontaneous plot turns. At the very least, they should be captured in the draft for scrutiny later on.
• allow the characters free rein. The actions they take of their own accord can turn out to be inspired.
• ignore issues of quality. If I have to re-read a paragraph to remind myself what I have just written, I try not to edit it as I go; for reasons that have yet to become apparent, that paragraph might not even make it into the final novel – and my time is precious, deadlines tight.
• always start a spell of writing by picking up precisely where I left the action previously. To that end, the last thing I write each day is coloured red and tells me what to do next.
• finally, trust the process; drafting is rarely pretty – and bear in mind that anyone who tries to tell you otherwise, might be being less than truthful...

Rosie