How to Turn Your Dumpster-Fire First Draft Into a Masterpiece (According to Famous Authors Who Did It Before You)

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and I’ve got big plans.

No, I’m not writing… I’m baking. Why? Because my girlfriend casually mentioned how much she loved homemade chocolate cake. And naturally, being the slightly villainous genius that I am (humble, I know), I thought, “Well, I’m going to surprise her with the best chocolate cake she’s ever had.”

Easy, right?

Well, enter Mr. Fluffykins—my fat, white British Longhair cat. He’s sitting on the counter, eyeing my every move like he’s plotting his next act of chaos. But I’m undeterred. I’ve got all the ingredients laid out, the recipe pulled up on my phone, and my confidence is at an all-time high.

Except…

Baking a cake, it turns out, is a lot like writing your first draft. You’ve got the vision, sure. But the execution? Well, that’s where things get messy. Like, really messy.

I was supposed to mix the dry ingredients in one bowl, and the wet ingredients in another, but somehow, I ended up dumping everything into one giant, clumpy mess. Mr. Fluffykins, ever the supportive assistant, chose this exact moment to nudge the flour bag off the counter.

Puff—flour explosion. Everywhere.

So now, I’ve got flour in my hair, batter that’s looking more like glue, and a fat cat who’s clearly judging my life choices.

But here’s where things get interesting: I didn’t give up. I could’ve thrown the whole thing out (and let’s be honest, Mr. Fluffykins was rooting for that). Instead, I started over. Slowly. I salvaged what I could, measured everything again, and even managed to rebuild the mess into something resembling cake batter.

And you know what? After some patience and a little elbow grease, the cake turned out amazing. My girlfriend didn’t even know about the chaos in the kitchen (well, until I told her, of course).

But that’s exactly what revising a first draft is like: You start with something that feels like an absolute mess—a flour-covered disaster. And then you go back, piece by piece, to turn it into something great.

Let’s dive in.

Step 1: Take a Break (Seriously, Walk Away)

Just like how I needed to step back from my flour-covered kitchen disaster to figure out how to salvage the cake, Neil Gaiman suggests taking a break after your first draft.

You see, after you finish that initial draft, you’re too close to it. You’re covered in flour, batter splatters, and confusion. Gaiman says you need to step away. Put your draft in the metaphorical fridge for a week, a month—however long it takes for you to come back with a fresh perspective.

When you’re not so attached, you’ll be able to see where the plot is sticky, where the pacing is lumpy, and where your characters need a little more flavor.

Step 2: Trim the Fat (Your Draft Is Probably Too Long)

Now that you’ve stepped back, it’s time to take a hard look at the draft—just like I did with my cake batter after the flour fiasco. This is where Stephen King’s famous rule comes into play: “Second draft = first draft – 10%.”

You’ve probably got a lot of extra stuff in there—scenes that go nowhere, characters who serve no real purpose, and long-winded paragraphs that would be better off in the sink with the first batch of batter. Just like how I had to scoop out the excess flour and start fresh, King says to trim the fat in your draft.

When you’re done, your story will be tighter, cleaner, and way more palatable.

Step 3: Don’t Just Fix Little Things—Rewrite Entire Sections

At some point during my cake-baking debacle, I realized that just “tweaking” the batter wasn’t going to cut it. I had to start over with the basics.

And that’s where Ernest Hemingway comes in. Hemingway didn’t just edit his drafts—he rewrote them from scratch. He’d look at a scene and say, “Nah, this isn’t working,” and then burn it down (metaphorically, of course) and rebuild it better.

So when you hit a part of your draft that feels off, don’t be afraid to tear it apart and start fresh. Sometimes, a scene is so far off-course that “tweaking” it is like trying to bake a cake after you’ve already burned the batter.

Step 4: Keep Your Characters Consistent

Let’s talk about characters. Because just like my cake batter needed the right ingredients, your story needs characters who stay consistent from start to finish.

George R.R. Martin is known for creating characters who feel so real, you could almost invite them over for dinner (though, maybe not if you value your life). So when you’re revising, go through your characters’ arcs and make sure they make sense.

If your protagonist started off sweet and innocent, they shouldn’t be cracking villainous jokes by Chapter 5 unless there’s a solid reason. Keep them true to themselves, or your readers—like my girlfriend when she saw the flour in my hair—will definitely notice.

Step 5: Keep the Dialogue Sharp and Natural

Back to the cake. Once I got the batter right, I didn’t go overboard with decorations. I kept it simple—just like Elmore Leonard does with dialogue. His rule? “If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”

So, when you’re revising dialogue, don’t let your characters sound like they’re reading from a script. If a line feels too “writerly,” cut it. Keep things sharp, natural, and snappy. Less frosting, more flavor.

Step 6:Don’t Get Attached—Cut What Doesn’t Work (Kill Your Darlings)

Remember that one extra fancy ingredient you threw into your draft because it felt like a good idea at the time? Yeah, Agatha Christie would tell you to cut it.

In baking terms, that’s like adding a weird spice to the cake mix just because you like it—even though it has no place there. You might love that subplot, but if it’s not moving the story forward, time to toss it in the sink with the rest of the mess.

Step 7: Final Polish—Smooth It Out

Finally, the cake was baked. The structure was perfect. But before I served it, there was one last step: the frosting.

Just like that cake needed a final touch, your draft needs a final polish. Zadie Smith rewrites her sentences until they flow perfectly, and that’s what you need to do, too. Once the big stuff is fixed, go back and smooth out the details.

Make sure the prose is sharp, the rhythm is right, and everything feels just the way it should. Your draft is the cake; the final polish is the frosting. Don’t skimp on it.

Final Thoughts: From Flaming Batter to a Perfect Cake (aka Your Finished Draft)

So, here’s the takeaway. Revising your first draft is like baking a cake—sometimes it’s messy, sometimes it feels like a disaster, but with a little patience (and maybe a lot of rewrites), you can turn that disaster into something amazing.

Just like I salvaged my cake from the flour-covered chaos, you can turn your messy first draft into a masterpiece. So, channel your inner Gaiman, King, Hemingway, and the rest of the author squad, and start revising like a legend.

And hey, if all else fails? There’s always pizza.