First drafts are difficult. First drafts suck. First drafts are AMAZING. First drafts are torture. First drafts are super fun.
These things are all true simultaneously. Writing is really simple, but it's also one of the most complex things you can attempt. It's a career path fraught with paradoxes and cognitive dissonance, and we continue to do it because we are all sado-masochistic monsters who desire to inflict as much pain on others as we do on ourselves. Emotionally, because physically that would be illegal.
One of the hardest parts of first drafting is the conflict between needing to think really hard to keep things moving, and having your brain freeze up and refuse to cooperate because it's being overused.
But one of the most advantageous things you can sometimes do with your writing is shut down the critical thinking part of your brain and write, letting words just fall out on the page the way they want without really bothering to think them over, like flicking a switch that causes the thoughts to bypass your frontal lobe and just flow out of your fingers. That is in fact how I am writing this article right here right now, and also how I managed to ace both my college-level English classes in twelfth grade.
Critical thinking is for subsequent drafts, when you go back through to edit; the first draft is for creativity, and somehow, paradoxically (one of our favorite things), creativity sometimes means turning ourselves off.
So as an exercise in turning off our critical thinking, this is the introduction to my 7-step program for using Improv to turn off our inner critics, get those words on the page, and finish that damn first draft as fast as possible.
What is Improv?
If you're unfamiliar with the concept, Improv is short for Improvisational Theatre, a genre of entertainment in which people come together and perform a piece that is written in the moment; there are no scripts, no pre-planned plot points, just whatever each person is bringing to the table.
Sometimes Improv takes the form of a game, like Emotional Elevator (in which each character represents on emotion, and infects the others in the elevator with that emotion until they leave), or just an interaction or story. Sometimes prompts are chosen from a hat, or by submission, or are taken from the audience to help establish the setting, plot, and characters.
Often Improv is comedic; the spontaneity of Improv provides endless opportunities for laughs. Other times, it can be more serious, and Improv bits can last only a few seconds or as much as several hours.
-Set your goal; it could be a certain wordcount, number of chapters, whatever
-Set your deadline; how many days/weeks/months are you giving yourself to get this done?
-Find your writing space; somewhere quiet and private is usually best, but wherever you can turn off your brain is a great place to be
The Rules
1. Yes, And
The cardinal rule of Improv is always say yes; its codependent companion is, then add an "and." In the context of Improv this means that whatever your partner states or proposes immediately becomes the truth; no matter how outlandish, they are always telling the truth, never lying. Even if you don't like what they've proposed--perhaps that you're a greedy fishmonger bitch, or that the sky is made of angel wings and the sea of hellfire--you have to accept it, because if you don't, the audience will stop trusting both of you.
Because Improv is all imaginary, it only works if the audience trusts that you're telling the absolute truth, so you have to roll with everything your partner says, and they have to roll with everything you've said.
Then, once they've brought something to the table, you bring something in the return--the and. Because a story doesn't move forward if something new doesn't happen!
In the context of this game/challenge/whatever you want to call it, Yes, And is a singular activity--you are providing both the Yes and the And.
"What the hell does that mean?" you may be asking, "Isn't that just normal writing?"
Well, yes and no; because for this goal period, I'm challenging you to write whatever comes to mind. No matter how ridiculous, off-topic, or just plain stupid it may seem, if it pops into your head, you write it. Then, once it's written down, you add the next thing that comes to mind.
It's vital that you go with the first idea that pops to mind, because only then can we properly tap into your subconscious and get you thinking without thinking. In Improv the golden rule is that the first idea is the best idea, but we often throw it away because we're insecure, worried that it's too much or not enough. Eschew that now; write the first thing that comes, and if it turns out not to be the best thing? Fix it in post. That's why we edit.
(Side note: After this process is finished, I do assure you that much editing will be necessary. This pursuit is about getting words out on the page, not making them perfect.)
2. No Buts
Another primary rule in Improv is No Buts, (not to be confused with butts, which are often used in Improv). If you add a but, it's an automatic denial; you're saying that the previous idea isn't good enough.
In this pursuit, it's fine for your characters to say but, but if you find yourself thinking, "But that wouldn't work!"/"But that doesn't make sense!"/"But" ANYTHING, then you're denying your own ideas; your confidence is incomplete, and you're letting it get in the way of your creativity.
Smash that But to smithereens and save it for the editing process! You have more important things to do right now! Namely, Write Write Write!!!
3. Justify
Sometimes when you find yourself wanting to add a "But" it's because something doesn't seem to make sense. It happens! But instead of denying this weird thing that doesn't make sense, we need to justify it instead. Slash that but and stick in a because instead, and give the context, to yourself or your readers!
Ex: "The sky is pink! But that doesn't make sense!" Becomes "The sky is pink! Because there's a thinner atmosphere and lots of red suspended dust in the air, like on Mars!"
This helps makes sense of that which is confusing, moves you along a path that makes sense to you, and keeps that dreaded But as far out of the equation as possible.
4. Quickly Establish Setting, Relationship, Plot
In Improv it's important to establish the Who, What, Where, When, Why and How as soon as you can; this is intertwined with your justifications above to some degree, but here we're largely talking about your scenework and character interactions. Sometimes we spend a long time meandering around things in real life, spiraling closer and closer to the point the longer we spend time in a place or with another person, but this often doesn't make for great fiction (unless done very well, with the intention of adding tension) so try cutting straight to the point:
Where are you? When is it and What is everyone doing? Who's there? What do your characters want, and Why? How are they planning to get what they want?
Establish these things fast so that the audience understands what's going on and can imagine the scene easily, then get into the juicy bits, the exciting stuff they came to see. As Chuck Wendig is fond of saying, skip the boring bits. If you're not having fun writing it, they're not having fun reading it, I can almost guarantee.
5. Give Yourself Gifts
In Improv, Gifts are the little tidbits of seemingly throw-away information that you and your Improv partners sprinkle throughout a conversation--the mention of your wife being pregnant, you have a blue ribbon in the National Scrap-Parts Bike-Making League Championships, you're an active member of an underground BDSM club exclusively for short doms and tall subs.
Whatever it is, the more information you give earlier on, the better it'll be for you later on, because you'll have more to pull from, and you get a better and better feel for your character as these details come out. And then, when something happens, you can pull on those Gifts to improve the story later on--maybe your characters need to get somewhere fast, so you build a bike out of the garbage in your apartment, or you need to abscond the scene so you get a text from your wife telling you she's having the baby, or someone says they recognize you from somewhere and you can be like, "You were my best mate's tall sub last weekend!"
We do this all the time in our writing and never think about it--little details that we give our characters "just because" become a big deal later on, and can even explode into entire character or plot arcs, or be the secret key to defeating the Ultimate Badass at his own game.
So in this exercise, give yourself gifts--give yourself lots of Gifts, don't be afraid to dig down into the depths of who your character really is, get all UP in those guts, sprinkle the breadcrumbs and then follow them home! It may just get your characters out of tight corners later, and having already established things as truth, it will feel much less like a Deus Ex Machina.
In Improv, Gifts are the little tidbits of seemingly throw-away information that you and your Improv partners sprinkle throughout a conversation--the mention of your wife being pregnant, you have a blue ribbon in the National Scrap-Parts Bike-Making League Championships, you're an active member of an underground BDSM club exclusively for short doms and tall subs.
Whatever it is, the more information you give earlier on, the better it'll be for you later on, because you'll have more to pull from, and you get a better and better feel for your character as these details come out. And then, when something happens, you can pull on those Gifts to improve the story later on--maybe your characters need to get somewhere fast, so you build a bike out of the garbage in your apartment, or you need to abscond the scene so you get a text from your wife telling you she's having the baby, or someone says they recognize you from somewhere and you can be like, "You were my best mate's tall sub last weekend!"
We do this all the time in our writing and never think about it--little details that we give our characters "just because" become a big deal later on, and can even explode into entire character or plot arcs, or be the secret key to defeating the Ultimate Badass at his own game.
So in this exercise, give yourself gifts--give yourself lots of Gifts, don't be afraid to dig down into the depths of who your character really is, get all UP in those guts, sprinkle the breadcrumbs and then follow them home! It may just get your characters out of tight corners later, and having already established things as truth, it will feel much less like a Deus Ex Machina.
6. No Mistakes Only Happy Accidents
My first Improv teacher at AMDA, Katie Muchlin, was very fond of saying that "There are no mistakes, only happy accidents."
You are bound to make mistakes, in writing as in Improv as in life; when that happens, don't dwell on them. Justify what you have to justify and move on--and maybe that happy accident will turn out to be the single best thing that's ever happened in your story, you don't know!
Follow the breadcrumbs, Hansel, and when the bird eats them out from under you, take a deep breath, count to ten, and fumble through the dark because damn it you need to get Gretel the fuck home already, it's midnight and it's dark and you're like eight, literally anything could eat you. There is no time for tomfuckery and self-pity when you're mired in the depths of Creepy Forest Number Nine, Han. Just push through and everything will turn out alright.
My first Improv teacher at AMDA, Katie Muchlin, was very fond of saying that "There are no mistakes, only happy accidents."
You are bound to make mistakes, in writing as in Improv as in life; when that happens, don't dwell on them. Justify what you have to justify and move on--and maybe that happy accident will turn out to be the single best thing that's ever happened in your story, you don't know!
Follow the breadcrumbs, Hansel, and when the bird eats them out from under you, take a deep breath, count to ten, and fumble through the dark because damn it you need to get Gretel the fuck home already, it's midnight and it's dark and you're like eight, literally anything could eat you. There is no time for tomfuckery and self-pity when you're mired in the depths of Creepy Forest Number Nine, Han. Just push through and everything will turn out alright.
7. Find A Button
You find a button at the end of a scene, both in Improv and in normal acting, but also in writing; the button is difficult to define, but you know it when you see it. It's the point at which it makes perfect sense to end the scene; everything that needs to be resolved is resolved, and all the questions that need to be raised have been raised. This is often the "oh snap" moment, or the witty oneliner.
Once my class played a game in which members of the audience would enter as members of a family with a unified theme; this theme was "criminal," and one after another children and parents and the like were revealed who were all terrible. A comment ("Gift") was made that one of the children was supposed to be watching the person they were keeping prisoner in the basement. So when the conflict was rising to a din and things were starting to get out of hand, I ran across the stage and screamed, "I'M FREEEEEEEEEE!"
That was an immediate button; at that point the class was in tears, nothing more could be said, any conflict that was going to be raised or absolved had been raised or absolved, and no one would miss the scene for its ending--and neither would anyone resent it its length.
We've all been in situations where we read a story or watch a show and a scene just goes on and on and on when it doesn't have to. Even if it's just a few lines too long, you can tell that whoever was writing the piece didn't know how to press the button, one they sometimes give to themselves. Next time that happens, keep an eye or ear or finger out for a place that seems like a natural ending point, where the scene could end and it wouldn't negatively impact the rest of the story at all.
The difficulty in Improv is finding that moment yourself, because it's all happening so quickly and there's so much going on at once. But we have to try.
So as you write your scenes, if you ever find yourself getting bored or stuck, find a button; think of it as an escape hatch, the big red button that says DO NOT PRESS and yet resolves all your problems; then pound that thing into the ground and keep moving. You have to keep that momentum under you or you'll stop to second-guess yourself.
You find a button at the end of a scene, both in Improv and in normal acting, but also in writing; the button is difficult to define, but you know it when you see it. It's the point at which it makes perfect sense to end the scene; everything that needs to be resolved is resolved, and all the questions that need to be raised have been raised. This is often the "oh snap" moment, or the witty oneliner.
Once my class played a game in which members of the audience would enter as members of a family with a unified theme; this theme was "criminal," and one after another children and parents and the like were revealed who were all terrible. A comment ("Gift") was made that one of the children was supposed to be watching the person they were keeping prisoner in the basement. So when the conflict was rising to a din and things were starting to get out of hand, I ran across the stage and screamed, "I'M FREEEEEEEEEE!"
That was an immediate button; at that point the class was in tears, nothing more could be said, any conflict that was going to be raised or absolved had been raised or absolved, and no one would miss the scene for its ending--and neither would anyone resent it its length.
We've all been in situations where we read a story or watch a show and a scene just goes on and on and on when it doesn't have to. Even if it's just a few lines too long, you can tell that whoever was writing the piece didn't know how to press the button, one they sometimes give to themselves. Next time that happens, keep an eye or ear or finger out for a place that seems like a natural ending point, where the scene could end and it wouldn't negatively impact the rest of the story at all.
The difficulty in Improv is finding that moment yourself, because it's all happening so quickly and there's so much going on at once. But we have to try.
So as you write your scenes, if you ever find yourself getting bored or stuck, find a button; think of it as an escape hatch, the big red button that says DO NOT PRESS and yet resolves all your problems; then pound that thing into the ground and keep moving. You have to keep that momentum under you or you'll stop to second-guess yourself.
8. Keep The Story Moving Forward
Speaking of keeping moving, did I mention you should keep moving?
Don't look back. Don't stop to tie your shoes or smell the flowers or roll in the grass; go, motherfucker, go go go, we're opening our parachutes in t-minus ten, and one's got your name on it!
Don't let this baby stall out, friend, you can do it, I believe in you! Just focus on the "And;" what is the next logical happening after the last happening? Or the next illogical happening, whichever comes to mind first. Do you know where this is all headed, where you plan to end up? If yes, aim that fucker and blast it. If not, then just run, dude, and you will find that path through the forest, even if you have to cook ten witches to do it.
9. Don’t Ask Questions
Another rule in Improv; don't ask questions. Why? Because questions are not information. Questions are, in fact, an admission of ignorance; you don't know this thing, the audience says? Why don't you know this thing? Aren't you supposed to be real?
And then they remember that they're paying to watch people pretend on an empty stage and their minds explode. Don't make your audience's mind explode; make statements, not questions.
Of course, you want your audience to ask questions, to keep them interested, but for this pursuit try focusing on making them ask "what's going to happen next" instead of "What's happening now?"
Don't ask questions of your audience; you are in control, you know everything for all intents and purposes (until we get to the editing stage at least), and that's what they need to believe. Try to steer away from characters asking questions when you can, too, because again, it provides no new information; it is an admission of, and often even a repetition of an admission of, ignorance. Sometimes that's necessary, sometimes it's not.
Don't worry, you'll get a feel for it eventually.
Really what this means in regards to your writing is BE CONFIDENT. You know your world, you know what's going on, don't waffle. This is your time to shine, and the more confident you are, the more your audience will believe in you.
10. End The Story In A Different Place Than It Began
This seems obvious, and it kind of is; what's less obvious is that every scene is a story in and of itself. This is a throwback to number seven, really; you want to end the story as a whole, but also every individual scene in a different place than the one in which it began. Your characters are different people, or have a different relationship, or have changed their goals.
This can help you find the button on every scene (and your story as a whole if you're kind of in the dark about where it needs to end). Whenever you're unsure about where a scene should end, ask yourself if things are different now; do people know things they didn't know before? Important things, not just baseball stats or the names of the cloud formations (unless those things are important to your plot of course)? Have their plans changed? Are they in a different place mentally, emotionally, physically?
Make sure things are changing; if everything stays the same, the story is going nowhere. Pretend you're a Robinson and Keep Moving Forward!
Conclusion
And that's about it, really! Hopefully, using these techniques, you'll be able to turn off that brain and bang out a great first draft. Just remember: Any first draft is a great first draft, no matter how patchwork or illegible; it is a first step, a very long, very hard first step, and you made it.
Learning to run will be so much easier now that you've learned to walk.
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