Finish Your Damn Draft
The Hardest, Most Important Thing a Writer Will Ever Do
I’m indie writer Teague de La Plaine, author of the bestselling Sea at Sunrise and other stories. This is my weekly newsletter, where I talk about writing and self-publishing in addition to my own life. I keep the newsletter free, because I prefer you spend your money on my books.
Inside the cover of his latest book, The Staircase in the Woods, Chuck Wendig scribbled a note to me that was equal parts encouragement and commandment: “Finish your shit.”
It’s the best writing advice I’ve ever received. In fact, it’s probably the best advice any writer could receive. Not because it’s poetic or profound, but because it’s raw truth. Finishing a first draft is the single hardest hurdle most writers will ever face. And without that hurdle cleared, nothing else matters.
You can’t revise what you haven’t written. You can’t sell what you haven’t finished. And you can’t call yourself a writer if all you ever do is tinker with opening paragraphs and chase shiny new ideas.
Starting is easy. Hell, starting is fun. There’s something intoxicating about a new story idea—those early pages sparkle with possibility. You feel like a genius, like you’re channeling something straight from the creative ether.
Then comes the middle.
The middle is swampy, confusing, and full of self-doubt. Your brilliant idea starts to feel like a dumpster fire. You wonder if anyone would even read this crap. And worst of all, a new, shinier idea starts whispering to you. It’s easy to quit when the story turns to sludge. Many writers do.
But here’s the thing: every single writer you admire has faced that swamp and slogged through it.
Why Finishing is Everything
A first draft doesn’t have to be good. It just has to exist.
The act of finishing—even if the writing is rough, even if the story veers off course—is what transforms you from someone who wants to write into someone who does write. And that’s where the magic starts.
Finishing teaches you what the story really is.
You can’t discover your story by endlessly polishing Chapter One. You only figure out what you’re truly writing by reaching “The End,” where all the messy pieces finally take shape.A finished draft is clay, not marble.
Revision is where books are born. But you can’t sculpt what doesn’t exist. Even the ugliest draft has more value than the perfect novel still stuck in your head.Finishing builds momentum and grit.
Once you’ve finished a draft, you know you can do it again. You’ve proven to yourself that you can push through the ugly middle. That confidence is priceless.It silences the perfectionist.
We all have an inner critic who wants to stop us cold. Finishing is the ultimate rebellion against that voice. It’s saying, “You don’t get to win.”
My First Draft Revelation
When I first started writing seriously, I was a master at quitting. I’d get 20 or 30 pages in, decide the story wasn’t working, and then hop to another project. Each time I abandoned a draft, I convinced myself I was being “smart” by moving on.
In reality, I was just afraid of writing something bad.
It wasn’t until I forced myself to finish a draft—an awful, messy, Frankenstein’s monster of a story—that I realized finishing is the only path forward. (Ironically, that final push came from another writer I admire, Hugh Howey, who said, “Your rough draft doesn’t have to be good.”) My first first draft was terrible. But it existed. And from there, I could fix it.
Finishing that draft felt like crossing a personal Rubicon. I stopped being a “wannabe writer” and started being a writer who knew the pain—and the power—of pushing through.
How to Actually Finish Your First Draft
Finishing sounds simple, but if it were easy, every blank notebook would already be filled with bestselling novels. Here’s the no-BS blueprint for getting across the finish line:
1. Lower the bar (way, way down).
Your first draft is supposed to be bad. Lean into that. Give yourself permission to write like a caffeinated raccoon smashing the keyboard. The goal is to get words down, not to write like Toni Morrison on the first try.
2. Set brutally simple goals.
Don’t aim for 2,000 words a day if you can’t manage it. Start with 300. Or 500. Or one messy scene. Small goals snowball into big wins.
3. Don’t edit as you go.
Editing while drafting is a productivity black hole. Every time you stop to “fix” something, you lose momentum. Use placeholders like “[FIX THIS LATER]” or “[MARK DIES HERE—HOW?]” and just keep moving.
4. Use deadlines like weapons.
Even self-imposed deadlines work. Tell a friend, “I’ll finish this draft by September 1st or I owe you a steak dinner.” The pressure helps. (Fear of public failure is powerful motivation.)
5. Embrace the messy middle.
Every writer hits the swamp. When you get there, don’t panic. Push through. Remind yourself that this is part of the process—ugly middles make for strong endings.
6. Build a ritual.
Show up at the same time and place every day if you can. A consistent ritual—coffee, music, the same chair—trains your brain to slip into “writing mode” faster.
7. Write like no one will read it.
Because no one will, not yet. First drafts are private, ugly, and gloriously imperfect. Write with reckless abandon, knowing you’ll clean it up later.
The Freedom of “The End”
The moment you type “The End” on your first draft, something shifts. It won’t feel perfect—it might even make you cringe—but it will exist. And existence is the key to everything else.
A finished draft is freedom. It’s proof that you can go the distance. And more importantly, it’s raw material you can refine, reshape, and turn into something worth sharing with the world.
Chuck Wendig’s three-word commandment isn’t just tough love; it’s the path to becoming a real writer. You don’t have to write a masterpiece. You just have to write until the story is done.
So the next time you’re tempted to quit halfway, remember this mantra: Finish your shit.
The world doesn’t care about your perfect idea or your half-written opening chapter. The world only notices the stories you finish.
The 10-Day First Draft Challenge
If you’ve been staring at a blinking cursor, here’s a simple challenge to push you over the hump:
Day 1 – Commit and Plan.
Spend one hour writing a single-page outline of your story. No details, just the skeleton: beginning, middle, end.
Day 2 – Character Quick Sketches.
Write one paragraph for each major character: what they want, what stands in their way, and why we should care.
Day 3 – World Snapshot.
Spend 30 minutes jotting down the “where” of your story. This isn’t world-building hell—just enough detail so you can see the setting.
Day 4 – Write 500 Words (No Judgment).
Open a new doc, write 500 words of your opening scene. No stopping. No editing. Just 500 ugly, glorious words.
Day 5 – Keep Going (1,000 Words).
Double your word count today. Focus on what happens next, not what’s perfect.
Day 6 – The Midpoint Push.
Write 1,000 more words. Don’t worry about how “good” they are. Mid-draft is swamp time; your job is to trudge forward.
Day 7 – Quick Plot Check.
Take 20 minutes to look at your outline. Adjust it if needed, then get another 500–1,000 words down.
Day 8 – Sprint Session.
Set a timer for 30 minutes. Write as fast as possible. Don’t stop to think. Aim for at least 700–1,000 words.
Day 9 – Hit 5,000 Words.
Whatever it takes today, push your total draft count to 5,000 words. (If you’ve been following along, you’re nearly there.)
Day 10 – Reflect and Set Next Goal.
Look at what you’ve written—no editing, just reading. Then set your next milestone (10,000 words by next week?) and keep going.
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Finishing my novel When Things Go Missing and getting it out there in the hands of readers made all the difference. It's hard, but also so worthwhile, and joyful. Thanks for encouraging writers to keep writing and finish!