The Ugly Truth About First Drafts (And Why They Matter)

By Allison Zhang

Edited by Rohan Dhulipalla

Art by Kylah Kao

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"wandering papers" by Kylah Kao

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Whenever I finish my first draft and read it, I think, Wow! I cannot believe my writing has gotten this bad.

I compare it to other people’s work and wonder how I could have forgotten how to write. How do they make every word feel intentional, every sentence crisp and vivid, every metaphor novel rather than cliché? How do so many talented writers exist, and why am I not one of them?

At the end of these questions, I think, “I’ll probably not get anywhere with this, so I may as well do something else worth my time.”

Many writers experience this feeling, almost like everyone else has unlocked some secret to writing while they’re still fumbling around, trying to make sense of their words. For a long time, I let that feeling stop me from writing. I’d open a Google Doc, type a few sentences, and then delete them all in frustration, convinced I’d never get it right.

Then I read “Shitty First Drafts” by Anne Lamott (highly recommended, by the way), and everything clicked. The polished writings I compared to my own were third, fourth, fifth, and sometimes even tenth drafts. They were written and then rewritten—thousands of revisions for the best pieces. So, of course, when I compared my rough, messy drafts to someone else’s finished product, I felt like I was failing.

I’m not alone. Many writers forget that the pieces they’re reading have been revised for eternity. This piece you’re reading has been revised five times (only counting major revisions)—and if I gave it another round, I’d change more.

Even writers like Lamott—who know their work will eventually turn into something great—hate their first drafts. The difference is they expect them to be bad. But many of us were never taught that. We grew up thinking a first draft had to be solid, or worse, that it had to be our final draft. Teachers told us to hand in a first draft for a grade, expecting it to be already polished. And if we were lucky enough to be told to revise, we usually only got one revision. One chance to fix everything. So, we internalized this idea that good writing happens in one sitting. That if the words don’t come out perfect the first time, they’re not worth keeping.

And even after we’ve left school, this trap of perfection still exists. Too many people expect writers to magically create something extraordinary in one day. And when we, as writers, inevitably fail to meet this standard, we berate ourselves for not matching society’s expectations. We hold ourselves to such an unachievable standard that we burn out, losing faith in our writing ability. 

But I’m here to offer the truth: first drafts should be bad. Really bad. That’s why they’re called “first.” If they were meant to be perfect, we’d call them “final.” And even final drafts aren’t perfect.

Writing is rewriting. That’s where the real magic happens. It’s where we shape ideas, sharpen images, and carve meaning out of chaos. Rewriting isn’t just necessary—it’s the best part of the process. The part where you find your voice, refine your message, and turn a jumble of thoughts into something worth reading.

So, let’s stop judging our first drafts so harshly. Instead, let’s embrace them for what they are: the messy, necessary starting point of something better. Let’s approach them with the curiosity of explorers, not the criticism of judges. Because the only way to get to a great final draft is to write a terrible first one—and then keep going.

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About the Author

Allison Zhang is a Chinese-American writer from California. She has been been published by Just Poetry and has been recognized by the Scholastic Writing Awards. She is also an alumna of the Juniper Young Writer's Institute. In her free time, she loves to horseback ride, play with her dog Potato, and read memoirs.

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