Do You “Swoop” or “Bash” Your First Draft?

Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., classified two kinds of writers: Swoopers and Bashers.

“Swoopers write a story quickly, higgeldy-piggeldy, crinkum crankim, any which way. Then they go over it again painstakingly, fixing anything that is just plain awful or doesn’t work. Bashers go one sentence at a time, getting it exactly right before they go on to the next one. When they’re done they’re done.”

I’m not usually big on categorical binaries for human behavior. (Plus, “Basher” sounds destructive and messy, the antithesis of meticulous care.)

Still, Jr. was onto something.

Most professional writers and book coaches warn against editing as you go, insisting it breaks the holy FLOW—that unbridled creative current your first draft needs.

Which is absolutely right—unless, of course, you’re a Basher. And I don’t know many natural born Bashers … aside from—myself.

THERE. I said it!

I’ll say it again: I like to edit as I go.

Not to say I always do. Some aspects of manuscript creation require broad strokes (or swoops, as it were).

But while swooping may seem standard among ghostwriters and book coaches, nothing’s doctrine. No one approach is universal. Sometimes I even start at the beginning and write until the end—yes, editing as I go.

Does it slow the pen, the stepwise cadence of bashing?

Yes. Also, no.

It can take a bit longer to pull and cinch and tighten as you type, like braiding slippery strands. But Bashers worth their salt make up time in swift revisions.

I won’t say “when I’m done, I’m done,” because that’s not a thing. Every writer needs an editor, and every draft gets revised. Still, I love surprising authors and editors with snugly plaited first drafts, tight and vivid and clean.

Yes, it helps to write quickly. Gets the juices flowing. Plus, swooping out first draft reveals a lot about where a book wants to go. But sometimes? Inspiration whispers in metered pauses—often when crafting intros or conclusions. One sentence at a time, patiently tended like needlepoint. Followed by brisk, nip-and-tuck edits.

Maybe you relate. Or maybe (probably) your muses swoop. Hair down and tangling, wild in the wind.

"Higgeldy-piggedly. Crinkum crankum. Any which way.”

There’s no right or wrong, only what works and what doesn’t. If it gets you writing and keeps you writing—all the way to the end—you’re doing something right.

Swooper or Basher, if you find yourself losing the thread, I can help.

You’ve Got a Book in You. Let’s Get it Out.