Writing Means Rewriting

 

I was sitting in a graduate school office with a problem: “I keep writing one try after another; it’s never right.” I was struggling with the paper the professor had assigned. Without a word, he opened the big bottom drawer of his desk, reached down, and lifted out a thick mass of messy paper, some of the pages handwritten, some typed (this was a very long time ago), and all of them marked up with scrawled changes. “And that was just a review,” he pronounced.

I was astonished. I thought the books of his that I had read, and liked, were so simple and clear, despite the complexity of his subject that I had assumed the prose had flowed effortlessly from his pen. Professor Morgan’s unspoken message to me was: keep writing and perfecting and eventually you will get there.

I have never forgotten that moment. Now, with the computer, with its ability to almost-automatically erase what you have altered, I no longer have the documentation of all the changes that go into my writing. Back when I was typing drafts and editing by pen or rewriting whole pages by hand, I accumulated a formidable number of boxes crammed with drafts of my books. I don’t feel a bit apologetic by what could seem evidence of a terrible lot of misplaced effort.

That simple incident unlocked a door for me. Just accept it—writing is a messy, arduous enterprise, but it can be done. It got me going.

Permission required for reprinting, reproducing, or other uses.

William S. McFeely is the Abraham Baldwin Professor of Humanities, emeritus, at the University of Georgia. His Grant: A Biography received the Pulitzer Prize.

● NEWSLETTER

Please enter a valid email address
That address is already in use
The security code entered was incorrect
Thanks for signing up