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.