Permission to Write Poorly: Why Your First Draft Should Be a Hot Mess

Why your creative process begins the moment you stop trying to get it right

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Ugly First Drafts must have been born after I left school. Because I don’t remember ever being asked to do one.

Unless they called it “practice” back then?

But that wasn’t “real” schoolwork. You never submitted it.

You only did your best when it was an assignment, an essay, or a test.

And that pressure ruined any chance of flow.

The Graduate Paper That Saved Me

It wasn’t until I was doing a Diploma in Education that I discovered the joy of the Ugly First Draft.

Halfway through the course. Much of the material was dry and boring.

But this essay was on the subject of reading and our emotional response to it. Right up my alley as a lifetime obsessive reader.

The teacher suggested we submit an essay written in pencil. A draft.

I don’t know if he knew what he was doing saying that. But it let pressure out of the valve. Turned the heat down. Allowed us some breathing space.

It worked for me.

I left it till the last minute. On a beautiful sunny Sunday in Sydney, there was no way I was going inside.

Then, when I finally sat down with my pencil and paper, the words fell out of me. I barely looked up for a couple of hours as I wrote six pages. I wrote it all in one go.

Then slipped it under his door on Monday morning.

A few days later, he handed it back to me, with a surprising D on the corner of the page.

Although I was used to seeing earlier letters in the alphabet, I was happy with what I’d written, so I didn’t feel gutted.

And then I turned to his final comment.

“You don’t need to rewrite this in pen to earn your Distinction. Reading it makes me feel running this course is worthwhile.”

What?

That was the highest mark I got in my entire student life.

Well, I learned something important that day.

Alignment and flow beat effort and grappling with words any day.

The Paralysis of Perfectionism

Now I know that the secret to a good draft isn't avoiding the mess—it's embracing it. Accepting that you, and your writing, aren’t perfect.

Because when you feel hesitant to start writing, it’s often due to perfectionism. What psychologists call “approach-avoidance conflict.” You want to write but you can’t stomach seeing your below-par work.

This standoff results in procrastination or writer's block. And you hear yourself saying,

“I’ll get to it later, after doing the laundry.”

Or “I won’t bother because I have nothing to say.”

Perfectionism

• Stops you in your tracks.

• Stifles your creativity.

• Suffocates any experience of joy.

As Anne Lamott said in her classic writing guide, “Bird by Bird,”

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people… It will keep you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft.

Research backs her up.

A 2018 study, by Curran and Hill, was published in the Journal of Counseling Psychology. It found that perfectionism in young people has risen over the last three decades.

And, sadly, it correlates with increased anxiety, depression, and creative blocks.

The Authenticity of An Ugly Draft

My essay didn’t get a D because it was technically perfect or profound. It was because my pencil draft was honest.

Without the pressure of expectation, I wrote with no filters. And what I stand for came across. In other words, I was authentic.

Fortunately, we can learn to unleash authenticity.

Brené Brown, the social researcher, who writes about vulnerability and courage, explains that authenticity can be cultivated:

Authenticity is not something we have or don't have. It's a practice—a conscious choice of how we want to live.

Yes, being authentic takes courage and vulnerability because we’re showing up as we truly are. So we risk rejection.

But we also flirt with coming home to ourselves and being seen, finally. We give power to the deepest part of who we are by claiming it as ours.

This only happens if we write freely, without editing, so that our raw emotion is found in the words.

As writer Virginia Woolf wrote in her diary:

The roughness of the first sentences seemed to me a pledge of the genuineness of the rest.

An Ugly First Draft is the right foundation for work that rings true to our readers.

Unlocking Creativity Through Imperfection

Neuroscience explains why “ugly writing” fuels creativity:

When we silence our inner critic temporarily, we engage our brain's default mode network—the neural circuitry associated with imagination and creative connections.

The power of ugly writing is that it reconnects us with the joy of creation itself.

• We lower the stakes.

• We feel more free to be ourselves.

• We shake off the burden of expectation and judgment.

Writer Jhumpa Lahiri said it well in her book, “In Other Words:”

Imperfection inspires invention, imagination, creativity. It stimulates. The more I feel imperfect, the more I feel alive.

By allowing ourselves to write poorly at first, we create the safety needed for creative risk-taking. We allow ourselves to connect with the more edgy stuff inside.

The words may come out ugly, but they’re true. And that’s what makes us and our readers feel more alive.

Let’s bypass our inner critic/censor and cultivate the courage to write Ugly First Drafts.

The 3-Minute Ugly Writing Exercise

1. Set a timer for exactly 3 minutes

2. Write continuously without stopping

3. Follow this prompt: "The thing I'm afraid to say about this topic is..."

4. Important rule: No deleting, no editing, no rereading until time is up.

This exercise makes room for courage. It allows you to experience the freedom that comes with imperfect expression.

Try it any time you sense you’re holding back.

Your Turn: Let’s hear from you!
What’s worked for you when it comes to writing an Ugly First Draft?