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This is the last entry in a four-part series about attaining FLOW–that state of effortless writing in which the right brain, seat of the creative impulse, takes center stage and relegates the critical-thinking left brain to the sidelines.

For some, FLOW comes naturally. These individuals write without filters or internal editors. They’ve never heard the “Mom” voice telling them they’ll never amount to anything. They’ve never imagined the thump of a “Reject” stamp on their foreheads. But these writers are rare and, in my experience, often so right-brained that they literally can’t see their own flaws and consequently never revise.

Revision is essential to producing salable novels, but revision ought to come after the first (or second, or twelfth) draft is completed. The writer who rewrites every paragraph before beginning the next is doomed. Why? Because the perfectionist who must achieve perfection right out of the box rarely finishes.

That is the point of FLOW: FInishing the novel. In earlier posts, I’ve covered a number of ways to achieve FLOW: By writing fast, writing every day, and working from an outline. But this last piece of advice, writing badly, is probably the most helpful. It’s also one of the most difficult tasks for intelligent people to take on.

Good writers don’t want to write badly, ever. And so we ponder each word, restructure every scene. The result is that our great novel remains unfinished and yellowing in a drawer. How much better to be one of those brainless spewers of words (who are all over the internet, boring us with their redundancies, fracturing spelling and grammar without a care) who nevertheless actually finish what they start!

Here’s an example– a random sentence from CLOUD ATLAS, David Mitchell’s work of genius: “I cooked up my first escape plan–one so simple it hardly warrants the name–alone. It needed will and a modicum of courage, but not brains.” This is the same paragraph, written “badly,” that is, in a way that will not impede my flow: “I figured out how to get out of there. It was a stupid plan, but something.”

The nuance, the cadence, and the narrator’s voice are all missing from my pedestrian offering. But it got onto the page in five seconds. Later, when I’ve changed into my left brain and am wearing my editor’s hat, I can refine it. For now, though, I move on.

HERE ARE SOME KEYS TO WRITING BADLY, IN CASE YOU DON’T YET KNOW HOW:

Write badly when you’re stuck. When the way you or a character says something is important, don’t bother trying to get it right at first. Just write it the way a ten-year-old would, and fix it later. Put a star next to the section if you need to, but move on.

Write badly when the plot overwhelms you. How do you handle the big blackout scene where Professor Plum gets shot? By writing badly: “Everyone was in the room, having a good time. Nobody noticed Professor Plum. Then the lights went out. When they came back on, Professor Plum was lying in a pool of blood.” (Use of “everybody” and “nobody”, repetition of Professor Plum’s name, cliches… all of which constitute bad writing)So okay, it’s crude and uninspired and puerile…Bad!… but it’s on the page. It gets you through.

Write badly when you’re uninspired. If you’ve gone more than one day without writing, it’s probably going to be hard to pick up your threads of thought. That lack of continuity will feel like a lack of motivation. If this is the case, whatever you write will probably be dull anyway, so writing badly will at least get something on the page until your juices start flowing again.

A final word: Don’t let others see your work until it’s finished. Your friends (who–let’s get real–won’t ever tell you if the book is heinous) don’t count, and you shouldn’t need stroking so desperately, anyway. And if you’re silly enough to send a rough draft to an editor or agent, even a longstanding one (even if they ask for it!), then you’ll live to regret it. (I did!)

No one except you should know how badly you can write. But it’s your secret weapon that will get you to the end of your first draft faster than anything else. So use it wisely.

But use it.