3 Reasons to Take a Break From Your First Draft

Well, I did it- I finished the "shitty first draft" of Rescue! Not gonna lie, I summarized the last three chapters. This draft had to get done or it might not get done at all lol, and I really don't want that to happen. I was struggling, partly because I'm terrible at endings (even the required-in-a-romance happy endings), and partly because omigod it's done, what next?

I KNOW what's next, of course.

A break.

And it's perfect timing, too, since we will be heading for a little vacation at the end of this week, so having Rescue finished means one less thing to do this week while I'm trying to do everything else. And by everything else, I mean two weeks worth of blog posts, two weeks worth of social media posts, catching up on gardening, extra grocery shopping and baking, packing... Yeah, who really gets to have the vacation? LOL.

Why take a break from your rough draft? Here are three reasons:

Reason #1: You Deserve It!

Writing a book is hard work. There's coming up with & outlining the idea, writing the actual story, world-building, character building, research...not to mention trying to build a social media platform. There is a lot to do, and it can be exhausting (even if you love it). So take some time and rest- and celebrate the accomplishment!- before moving on to the editing step.

Reason #2: It May Keep You From Hating Your Book

Sometimes, spending too much time being immersed in your idea can make you absolutely sick of it. You just wrote it, and now you need to read through it over and over again... Taking some time away between finishing the first draft and beginning edits can keep it from being an absolute chore, and when you get back to it, you may find renewed excitement about the project.

Reason #3: You'll See It With Fresh Eyes

When you take time away from your book, you are better able to take a step back and analyze better. When you're not "in the moment" of the story because it's all you thought about for the last (insert amount of time), you'll be better able to see trouble spots and notice unnecessary bits. It may still sting to have to delete those bits, lol, but it will be easier to see them.

All right! That's it for me this week. Keep reading below for chapter two of Rescue's first draft!

Chapter Two

Pounding on the door pulled Paige out of her deep sleep.

“Paige! Hey, are you home? Let me in!”

Paige opened one eye, the left one that wasn’t smooshed against the floor. Her head spun like she’d been drinking all night, and it took several seconds before she even realized she was lying on the kitchen floor. The morning light streaming in the balcony door pierced her eyeballs and her head thumped and ached. For a moment, she’d wondered if she’d gotten blackout drunk and passed out on the floor. And why wasn’t Stephen thumping around the apartment, throwing the door open and telling Jess to get lost? He’d be angry about being woken up so early-

The night before flooded back.

She wasn’t hungover.

Stephen wasn’t here.

But Jess was. Paige groaned and wondered if she could get away without talking to her sister. But she knew Jess would just keep banging on the door until she pissed off the neighbors. And Paige wasn’t exactly in the neighbors’ good graces with all the angry stomping and throwing shit Stephen tended to do.

“Just a minute!” Paige called out. Her voice hurt her own head. She grabbed the chair beside her to pull herself to her feet. She could barely move- sleeping on a hardwood floor at her age was not conducive to standing on her own in the morning. Pain flared in her back when she tried to straighten, so she stayed hunched over, looking as much like an old hag as she felt.

Before she turned to the door, though, her eyes caught sight of the words It’s fucking weird how you still think you can talk to animals. Grow up.

Her stomach lurched. But she managed to stumble to her door, unlock it, and let her sister in.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Jess said, tactful as ever. “You get run over by a goddamn truck?”

“Stephen left.”

Jess snorted and pushed past Paige into the kitchen and straight to the coffee maker.

“Is that all?” she asked, pulling the coffee can from the cupboard and measuring healthy scoops into the coffeemaker. “Sorry,” she added, looking up at Paige. “I seriously would have grabbed coffee in town, but Brighton’s is closed today, and I fucking hate Dick’s coffee shop.”

“Oh, shit!” Paige said, looking at her clock. “I have five minutes to get to work!”

But how was she supposed to work feeling like this? She barely knew where she was at the moment.

“I’ll call Dick and tell him your dead. Or halfway there, anyway. But I need your help. More importantly, though, did Stephen do this to you?”

“Do what?” Paige asked, running a hand through her hair. It stuck halfway through in a giant mat that was still damp with what was hopefully just tears. But Paige doubted it, given how stuffed up her sinuses still felt.

“This,” Jess said, motioning at Paige. “Have you looked in a mirror yet? You looked like someone beat the shit out of you. And if he did, we may have to stop at my house for my shotgun before we go to the auction.”

“What auction? What are you talking about?”

Jess sighed.

“Why don’t you go have a shower and wash the snot out of your hair- I’m not trying to be mean, Paige, I love you. But you look awful. I’m sorry. You look like you had the shit beat out of you, and if that asshole did it, we’ll be hiding his body after the auction you’re coming to with me. I’ll explain after. But right now, go clean up. When you come out, I’ll have dealt with ol’ Dickhead, and I’ll have a perfect cup of coffee all ready to go for you. Okay?”

Before Paige could answer, her phone rang. Jess crossed the room and pulled it out. “I’ll deal with this idiot. You get in the shower.”

Paige wondered which idiot her sister was going to deal with.

“She looks like she got hit by a motherfuckin’ dump truck, so yeah, I’d say she’s pretty sick. I mean, she didn’t even answer her phone. Don’t you think she’d have answered her phone herself if she was feeling okay?”

Thank God she didn’t have to deal with Dick. She didn’t have it in her to do it today.

Paige stepped in the shower and turned it on, wincing at the blast of cold water that quickly turned scalding before settling on kind of lukewarm. You’d think after fourteen years I would have figured out not to get in before the temperature was set.

As she worked shampoo into the tangled mass of hair at the back of her head, she remembered Jess mention an auction. How the hell was she going to deal with an auction today? Maybe she’d better just go to work. When she felt this bad, she couldn’t block out the animals. So many of them were scared and upset from the change in their routines, and being in a strange place with lots of other animals and people…Their chatter gave her a migraine, and the migraine kept her from being able to block them. It was a vicious cycle.

It’s really fucking weird how you still think you can talk to animals. Get over it.

The p.s. on Stephen’s note kept popping up in her brain.

I’d fucking LOVE to just get over it, Stephen. Maybe you should fucking get over it.

Paige stood in the water until every last bit of heat had disappeared and her upstairs neighbor was stomping on the floor because the hot water was all gone. He was a jerk anyway, and usually he was the one who hogged all the hot water.

She wrapped herself in a towel and squeezed the water out of her hair. Then she went out to the kitchen, where Jess was sitting at her table, holding an unlit cigarette in one hand and her cup of coffee in the other. Paige’s phone sat on the table in front of her.

“I thought you quit,” Paige said.

“I did. That’s why it’s not lit,” Jess retorted. “I just like knowing it’s there while I have my coffee. It’s a habit.”

“So why not hold a pen or something instead?”

Jess pulled a Bic out of her pocket and held the flame at the end of the cigarette. “Cuz a pen melts if I got an emergency and gotta light it. Stephen’s a fucking idiot. You know that, right? You HAVE to know that. I saw the note he left you. Seriously, Lesley Davis? That’s who he left you for??”

Paige shrugged. “That’s what the note says.”

“Well, anyway, I had a chat with him, too, after I told Dick I came here and found you practically dead so you wouldn’t be able to work. He said they were super swamped because Brighton’s is closed, but I guess that’s just too bad, huh?”

Paige closed her eyes, pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and groaned.

“You sound like you’re half dead, Sis. Are you okay?”

Paige pulled out the chair across from her sister. Stephen’s chair. She sat down, trying to keep her towel up, and flopped her head down on the table. Except she accidentally flopped it before she put her arms on the table, and she bounced her forehead off the melamine surface. The pain set off a new round of wracking sobs. She felt Jess’ hand on her back, and Paige imagined her sister patting it just like she did when one of her three kids was hurt or scared from a bad dream.

“No, I guess you’re not all right,” she murmured. Her voice was low and soothing just like it was when she was trying to calm one of the kids- or one of the abused horses at her family’s rescue. Well, more like her mom and Jess’ rescue now, since Paige and their mom were on the outs. “Aw, kiddo, I’m sorry. Even if Stephen is an idiot, it don’t make it feel any better. But I know one thing that will make you feel better.”

Paige peered over her arm at her sister. “Going to bed and hiding?”

"No. Saving some horses. Let’s get going before they auction them off.”