Why Fast-Drafting Works (And Why Every Writer Should Try It at Least Once)

There’s a myth that floating around in writing circles that has probably lodged itself in yours too—the idea that a first draft should be good. 

Maybe not perfect, but at least coherent, well-structured, and, ideally, not a complete disaster. It sounds reasonable, right? After all, we’ve read brilliant books and thought, I want mine to be like that. But here’s the truth: those brilliant books? They didn’t start that way. No one writes a perfect first draft. Not your favorite author, not the most disciplined writer you know, and definitely not the people who make it look easy. Every book you love started out as a mess—rough, chaotic, and full of sentences the author probably cringed at later. The difference is, those writers got the words down anyway, trusting that they could fix them later.  

Overthinking is the enemy of creativity. When you get too caught up in making every sentence shine, you slow yourself down. You hesitate. You lose momentum. Writing starts to feel like a chore instead of an exciting, creative process. The more you try to force perfection, the more likely you are to stare at a blank page, doubting every word before it even hits the screen.  

That’s where fast-drafting comes in. Instead of agonizing over every paragraph, fast-drafting is about writing first, thinking later. It’s a way to silence your inner critic, push past writer’s block, and build momentum so you actually finish your draft instead of endlessly tweaking the same three chapters. It’s not about writing well—it’s about writing enough to have something to work with. And once you do? Then you can go back and shape it into the story you wanted all along.

Writing fast isn’t for everyone, but for a lot of writers, it can be a game-changer. 

If you’ve never tried fast-drafting before, you might be skeptical. Maybe you like to take your time, polish as you go, or feel more comfortable working at a slower, more deliberate pace. That’s totally valid. But what if, just for a few days, you experimented with speed? What if you gave yourself permission to write without overthinking? You might be surprised by what happens.

For some writers, writing quickly helps quiet self-doubt. When you move fast, you don’t give that critical inner voice time to nitpick every word or convince you that your ideas aren’t good enough. You just write, trusting that you can fix things later. And while it might feel strange at first, a lot of writers find that once they stop second-guessing, the words come easier.

There’s also something about fast-drafting that makes it easier to slip into creative flow—that state where you’re so immersed in your story that time disappears, and the words feel like they’re pouring out effortlessly. Writing at a steady pace can definitely get you there too, but picking up the speed forces your brain to stay focused on what happens next rather than getting stuck on sentence structure or perfect word choices. And that shift in focus? It can make writing feel more natural, more intuitive—less like work and more like storytelling.

Now, is every word you write going to be gold? Of course not. But that’s the beauty of drafting. You don’t have to get it right the first time—you just have to get it out. And for some writers, fast-drafting is the best way to do exactly that. So if you’ve never tried it before, why not give it a shot? Even if it’s just for a day or two, you might find that speed helps you break through creative blocks, build momentum, and actually enjoy the process of getting your story onto the page.

First Drafts Aren’t Meant to Be Perfect

There’s something about a blank page that makes writers forget the simple truth: first drafts aren’t meant to be good—they’re meant to exist. But somehow, we convince ourselves that we need to get it right from the very first sentence, as if our future readers are peeking over our shoulders, judging every word we type.

They’re not. And even if they were, they’d never see this version.

A draft and a finished book are two entirely different things. The polished novel you pull off the shelf has been rewritten, reworked, and probably torn apart and stitched back together more times than the author cares to admit. But it all started with a messy, imperfect draft. That’s the part we don’t see—the part where the dialogue is clunky, the pacing is off, and there are entire paragraphs of placeholder text that say things like [something dramatic happens here].

It’s easy to get stuck chasing perfection, but the truth is, done is always better than perfect. You can’t revise a story that doesn’t exist. You can’t strengthen characters that never make it onto the page. You can’t fix a broken plot if there’s no plot at all. The first draft’s job isn’t to be flawless—it’s to give you something to work with.

And revision? That’s where the magic happens. That’s where you take the raw, messy version of your story and start shaping it into what you imagined it could be. But you can’t revise a blank page. You have to let yourself write badly first, trusting that every imperfect word is a step closer to the story you want to tell.

Fast-Drafting Reduces Writer’s Block

There’s something about a blank page that makes writers forget the simple truth: first drafts aren’t meant to be good—they’re meant to exist. But somehow, we convince ourselves that we need to get it right from the very first sentence, as if our future readers are peeking over our shoulders, judging every word we type.

They’re not. And even if they were, they’d never see this version.

A draft and a finished book are two entirely different things. The polished novel you pull off the shelf has been rewritten, reworked, and probably torn apart and stitched back together more times than the author cares to admit. But it all started with a messy, imperfect draft. That’s the part we don’t see—the part where the dialogue is clunky, the pacing is off, and there are entire paragraphs of placeholder text that say things like [something dramatic happens here].

It’s easy to get stuck chasing perfection, but the truth is, done is always better than perfect. You can’t revise a story that doesn’t exist. You can’t strengthen characters that never make it onto the page. You can’t fix a broken plot if there’s no plot at all. The first draft’s job isn’t to be flawless—it’s to give you something to work with.

And revision? That’s where the magic happens. That’s where you take the raw, messy version of your story and start shaping it into what you imagined it could be. But you can’t revise a blank page. You have to let yourself write badly first, trusting that every imperfect word is a step closer to the story you want to tell.

You Can Fix It Later

I may be a bit biased here, but one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a writer is that drafting and editing are two completely different mindsets. Drafting is about discovery. It’s messy, unpredictable, and often a little chaotic. Editing, on the other hand, is about refinement—shaping what’s already on the page into something stronger. The problem is, a lot of writers try to do both at the same time, and that’s where things start to unravel.

When you write quickly, you give yourself permission to focus on getting the story down rather than making every sentence shine. It’s like shoveling sand into a sandbox—if you keep stopping to sculpt the perfect castle before you have enough material to work with, you’ll never get past the foundation. The more words you have, the more you can shape later. But if you spend all your time tweaking the same few paragraphs, you might never get to the end of your story.

Embracing the mess isn’t easy, especially if you’re used to editing as you go. But fast-drafting forces you to trust the process. Instead of agonizing over the perfect word choice, you learn to keep moving forward, knowing that revision will give you the chance to refine everything later. And revision is where the magic happens. That’s where you strengthen character arcs, deepen emotional beats, and turn a raw draft into something polished and powerful. But none of that can happen if you don’t give yourself the freedom to write badly first.

So the next time you feel the urge to stop and fix something mid-draft, remind yourself: You can fix it later. But first, you have to write it.

Fast-drafting isn’t for everyone, but if you’ve never tried it, why not give it a shot? 

You might surprise yourself. Maybe you’ll love it and discover that speed helps you break through blocks and get out of your own way. Or maybe you’ll decide it’s not your thing—but even then, you’ll walk away with a better understanding of your own process. Either way, you’ll have more words on the page than you did before, and that’s always a win.

The hardest part of writing is often just getting started, and perfectionism has a way of making that even harder. It whispers that you’re not ready, that you need a better outline, a stronger opening, the perfect first line before you can move forward. But here’s the thing—perfectionism is a liar. The real work of writing happens in revision, and you can’t revise something that doesn’t exist.

Fast drafting isn’t just about cranking out a high word count—it’s about moving your story forward in whatever way works for you. 

Maybe you’re focusing on writing key scenes that capture the emotional heart of your book. Maybe you’re deep-diving into character studies, figuring out who your protagonists really are before you put them into motion. Or maybe you’re worldbuilding, dreaming up the intricate details of your setting, from its magic systems to the monsters lurking in the shadows. However you define it, fast drafting is about momentum, not perfection. It’s about giving yourself permission to create freely, without overthinking, so you can lay the foundation for something amazing.

Have you ever tried fast-drafting? What was your experience like?