Rewriting is Real Writing
Sometimes, when reading a paper, it is obvious that the student never read it themselves. They are busy; I get that. But it also means they are not quite grasping what writing is.
Probably best phrased by Larry McEnerney, who heads the University of Chicago writing program, the first draft is all about thinking. We have all these ideas in out head, maybe a few conclusions and suggestions, and (hopefully) some support for those conclusions and suggestions. The whole concept of the paper is still incipient–trapped inside our heads in no particular order. The mental equivalent of desk piled high with books, notes and papers, with some slipping off to floor. Writing, at first, is the way we organize all of that into a presentable form, with a beginning and an end, each note or book in its place. The first draft, in other words, is written for the writer. It’s how we organize our thoughts. More than that, actually.
Because we are forced to organize our thoughts, we come to new conclusions, and discard faulty leads and dead-ends. We use writing to explain in a clear and concise way to ourselves. Writing down our miasma of ideas and facts helps us think and put them together into a cohesive mass.
In short, writing is thinking. At least in the first draft.
And this is what I mean by rewriting being the real writing. Once our ideas have been written in a way that we understand them, we have to write them again–this time in a way that others can understand them.
The first draft is for us, to help us think. The final draft is to provide value to others.
This is not so easy. We know what we are writing about, and we know why it’s valuable to us, so we have no problems when we read the first draft. Others don’t come with the same readiness and awareness. We have to write something that speaks to them, and let’s them know they will get some value out of reading further.
And then, we have to explain things that were unnecessary for us in the the first draft – as the reader (though maybe a person with some knowledge of the subject) has no idea what we want to say.
The second draft, in other words, is the first draft of writing for others.
So when I see the telltale mistakes that suggest the writer simply got some words on paper and submitted them, I am disappointed. That writer, to my mind, hasn’t submitted writing to me–but merely a bunch of his or her notes.