breaking down first drafts for oversight, part 1
Procrastination, I've come to realize, is what happens when you stare at a task as a whole instead of seeing the possibility of breaking it down.
Recently I read Unstuck by Ramona Ausubel. * She doesn't talk about procrastination directly, but halfway through the book it hit me: her view of writing was nothing like what I'd learned so far. A way better one. The book contains 101 "keys," where Ausubel takes you on a tour of possibilities, and I love how she does this — especially because it's nothing like those "writing manuals" padded with endless recycled scenes from old movie scripts used as filler. Ausubel does none of this.
So why do I bring this up? Because I have a ton of manuscripts myself — all first drafts, most of them collecting dust, lying dormant at the 33% stage ("Oh yeah, I should finish that one day…"). For reference: I also have a job, three rather mature children, a house that needs maintenance, etc., etc. — very much unlike anyone else.
But there was one manuscript that stuck with me, and I actually pitched it to a publisher. And lo and behold: they said they were interested! The problem is, they said that back in 2023, and in the three years since, I didn't touch the bloody thing.
Reading Unstuck made me change my mind. I created a folder on my computer with the name of the old manuscript and started pulling in everything that had been remotely related.
Day 2: I went through all the files and sorted them until I had everything I needed — no doubles, just clear things. I was warming up to being unstuck!
Day 3: honestly, not even my family got any real attention. I decided I didn't like the way the story was set up and felt I'd jumped in too late. So I wanted to restructure the whole thing. I did this by simply breaking down the entire manuscript (approximately 66k words) into sections. No matter if the breakdown made sense. And that changed quite a bit already — even if I was frustrated that I wasn't actually making changes to the content.
Day 4: it still didn't feel right. I was talking it over with my spouse when it hit me — I needed a different kind of breakdown. I needed four arcs, so the flow of the story would be clearer. This came from a comment by one of my alpha readers, who'd said I'd crammed three sections into Act 1 that really belonged in Act 2.
And that's where I am today. I reorganized all the content, and I have all the sections that belong in Arc 1.
Ausubel taught me to take a time frame — 90 days, 3 months, 6 months, it doesn't matter — and sit down with your manuscript and interact with it. As I stared at the closed curtains that evening and the headlights of passing cars painted moving triangles on our ceiling (and on the heavily dusted lamp), I decided to pick 90 days. In 90 days, I should be able to make something out of this work. Even if I'd hoped to be more productive with it by now, I have genuine hope this manuscript is going to make it to an actual second draft. I really do.
(90 days from the day I made the decision would be the end of September 2026.)
On my website, I created a separate unpublished page where I go through all the steps. I'll publish it when I'm further along with the writing. It's somewhat hard to discuss what Ausubel explained in her book without weaving in my own take on it (copyright!), like Julie Powell did with Julia Child's cookbook — so I need to find a way to maneuver around that before I hit PUBLISH.
But do I have hope? Sure I do. I will keep you posted.
*Ramona Ausubel posted a page in the British Writing Magazine. When I read it, I knew: she was talking to me, you ever had that feeling? Creepy but weird. Some people call it a revelation. But I assure you: I don't know Ramona and even gave her 4 stars on Goodreads, which sounds funny now I'm raving about it. Sorry Ramona. credit image: Photo by cottonbro studio: https://www.pexels.com/photo/corrections-on-a-paragraph-written-on-a-paper-5185087/
