Why You Should Stick that Story in a Drawer
It seems I haven't posted any erudite lessons on writing as of late. Since I'm sure you come here for more than my thoughts on botox (bad) and pandas (awesome) I'll help you out with some thoughts on why you should take your carefully worded story (or novel) and stick it in a drawer. No, don't send it out to The New Yorker or The Paris Review. Not just yet. Why? Well, I have some hard truths, friend. The story you just finished, the one you're quite proud of and that your mother has declared "Nobelable" may not be quite done.
As a frequent offender of the put-it-aside law, let me tell you a few things I've learned.
1. First drafts are just that. First fucking drafts. Not gold. Not Nobelable. You will need to rewrite and edit.
2. You notice mistakes more easily when you haven't looked at something every five minutes for the past week. Remember all those terrible clothes you wore decades ago that you look back at and say, "God, stirrup pants? Why?!" Those fashion mistakes are to your story mistakes what pandas are to awesome. You need time to see them. Give yourself time.
3. Waiting is hard. True. But there's something really annoying about rereading an old story you sent off too soon and that by some odd miracle got published and thinking "Why the hell didn't I stick that in a drawer longer before I let the whole world see this?" You can't take it back once it's published.
4. Every writer has stories about setting aside their stories or books for months or years. Now you can join that club of writers!
This is a lesson I have to teach myself on a regular basis. I've been enamored enough of a first draft to think it publishable (ha ha!) That's called delusion. Do better than I've done and go stick that story in drawer. (Closets, attics, cartons, under the box bins, and safety deposit boxes are all acceptable substitutes for drawers)