THE TWENTY-FIFTH PAGE
In a month of thirty days, I produced three hundred pages of a first draft at the rate of ten pages per work session.
Was it ready for submission for publication?
No, of course not; it was shit.
In my education as a writer, I had just passed first grade. I was horrified by the first draft. I couldn’t face the typewriter.
Maybe it wasn’t shitty enough? That really wasn’t my style.
I had to seek my style.