Drafty

I’m not one for drafts (weather-related ones and written ones both). To me, they have the same effect. Chilling. Going back, painstakingly, over (and over) an essay would be hellish; truth be told, I’m not that enamored of my work the first time I write it, much less during a second or third version. I vastly prefer to dash off a piece of writing, going back to change it only for egregious grammar mistakes. I NEVER keep copies of my WIPs (works in progress)—they are either promptly completed and sent off to an editor, or deleted. 

Please don’t assume this is a brag. I understand it’s probably a character flaw. It’s easy for me to hide behind my ADHD diagnosis, but it could be I’m just lazy. I rarely re-watch movies or plays, or re-read books (save for a precious few) for the same reason. As soon as I begin Take Two, my internal boredom-o-meter starts running. “Oh, yeah, I remember now. She’s really a resistance fighter disguised as a cloistered nun, and her brother is the high-wire walker who saves the town’s baguette supply by carrying them over the burning bakery. Yada yada.” 

 

I just realized—this may be why I am so enamored of the work of the young Japanese sculptor Tomohiro Inaba. Why I go back and look at his fascinating creations again and again, finding them dynamic and new with each viewing. To the unfamiliar, Inaba makes iron sculptures, many of them animals, with a twist: each one progresses from a tightly crafted likeness, to metal squiggles that seem to fade away into space. I am positive that Inaba works diligently and at length on these masterpieces, but to me their charm is their impression of an energetic first draft. A precisely-rendered head of a deer, followed by a body that isn’t a body at all, but random wiggly metal lines. It’s as if Inaba gets to a certain point, and then says, “and so forth and so on,” leaving the viewer to fill in the blanks. Yes! My kind of creator! 

 

Art critics rave about Tomohiro’s work, extolling the virtues of his use of “negative space.” And I’m sure they’re right, that his are very thoughtful artistic choices which breathe life into otherwise rigid statues. But for me, they resemble an ebullient child’s crayon drawings: created quickly (first draft!), leaving Mommy to intuit the subject matter. A balloon? No. A spaceship? No? It’s your baby brother? Of course! Mommy engages with her tot’s artistic vision in a way that she never could with a finished picture.

 

So maybe there’s a method to my slapdash approach.  My linguistic scribble-scrabble is intentional! My single drafts have a refreshing spontaneity! You can endlessly revisit my stories because YOU are a co-creator of them. 

 

I wouldn’t dream of disturbing this lovely reader-writer dance by revising my stuff! We’re partners, you and I!

 

And if you decide that I’m writing about a baby balloon in space? 

Sure.

isn't this COOL?