Great Writing Is . . .

I spent four years teaching a writing class to middle school students. At the beginning of each year, I’d write on the whiteboard: Great writing is ______________. Then, I’d ask for raised hands. The kids had all sorts of inspired answers: creative, descriptive, entertaining, spell-checked. I couldn’t disagree with any of them.

But it wasn’t the answer I was looking for.

When they finally exhausted their list of suggestions, I’d turn back to the board and finish the sentence: Great writing is rewriting.

I’d warn them not to become overly attached to their first drafts, because magic happens in the second, third, fourth, and sometimes fifth drafts. The magic happens when you’re willing to scrap all the unnecessary stuff.

Writing is a lot like sculpting. I’ve read enough about the great sculptures of our time to know that they all start out as a block of stone, wood, or whatever the artist’s preferred medium is. If they stopped there, we’d have a lot of blocks, but not much art. The sculpture’s true work begins with the chipping away, the carving, the revealing of the structure.

The first draft is basically a block of stone—lots of words, sentences, and ideas of what could be. But it’s not ready for a museum.

As much as I warned my students not to get attached to their first drafts, I’ve found it difficult to follow my own advice. I come kicking and screaming to the keyboard, loathe to reach for the delete key. But experience tells me to push that key, no matter how deep the cuts.

The Ding Dong Altar Boy is currently sitting in this painful editing process. I’m taking a jackhammer to it. When I’m done with the jackhammer, I’ll go back in with the power carvers and chisels, then the tweezers and burnishing tools. Hopefully, I’ll eventually end up with something that looks less like a block and more like a museum piece.

But who are we kidding? It’s called The Ding Dong Altar Boy. It’s not headed for a museum. But hopefully, it’ll end up on your bookshelf, and when you see it, it’ll make you smile.