ZEHAO.LOG
Essay

Cover the Canvas (a translation)

On a whim, I sat down to translate a blog post called "Cover the Canvas." It was written by Steven Pressfield, the well-known screenwriter and novelist. His prose is short and forceful, the kind that gets your blood going. I have read this piece many times, and every time it hands me a little more courage and a little more drive.

A note: the original is so good that no translation can carry its full spirit. I would point you to the link at the bottom, which goes straight to the original post. 🔗

Is the first draft the hardest one?

Is it really any different from a third draft, or a twelfth?

Does a first draft come with its own peculiar difficulties, the kind we have to go after in a way that is all its own?

The answer to all three is the same: yes, yes, and yes.

First drafts are killers


A first draft is unlike every draft that follows it, and harder than all of them, because in a first draft we are filling the blank page. And we know what that means. Resistance.

Here is my mantra for first drafts: cover the canvas.

What that means is simple. Get something done, start to finish, no matter how rough. A first draft does not have to be great. It does not have to be pretty. It can have holes in it. It can leave shorthand and scribbles that only you can read, handwriting so messy nobody else stands a chance. Your passion is the whole game in a first draft. Just get it done. Cover the canvas.

Image The Last Supper

Resistance and first drafts


Why does covering the canvas matter so much? Because in the first draft, the Resistance you face is at full strength. The blank page, day after day after day. Resistance has tens of thousands of chances to hand us a reason to quit. The project is too hard, too painful. A million other people are doing the same thing and doing it better. We are too old, or else too young. The bottom line is always the same: we are not worthy!

If we dawdle over the first draft, even good news can wreck us. A raise, a promotion, a new baby, a winning lottery ticket. And just like that, our great work gets set aside, and then it is gone.

Cover the canvas. If the new piece is The Last Supper, paint in the apostles, paint in Jesus, set the table. Do not fuss over the details. It does not matter if Matthew's hair is wrong, or if Peter's left hand has four fingers. We will fix that later. Get the picture finished. Cover the canvas.

Some clever so-and-so once said, "There is no such thing as writing, only rewriting." He was wrong. The first draft is writing, the pure thing, from nothing to something, ink on a blank page. But he was also right. Because after the first draft, all that is left is rewriting.

In the first draft, our one job is to beat Resistance. Quality comes second; it can wait. First you have to get something down, however lousy, something that roughly resembles a book, a doctoral dissertation, a new business proposal. Once we have that, we are over the hump.

Advancing on Baghdad


General James Mattis commanded the 1st Marine Division in Operation Iraqi Freedom. His mission was to take Baghdad and drive Saddam Hussein from power. His plan of attack was exactly the same as our plan for writing a first draft.

(It was also, by the way, the plan General Schwarzkopf used in Desert Storm, the one Erwin Rommel used in the blitzkrieg conquest of France, and the one Caesar and Alexander used in every battle they ever fought.)

Mattis made his "commander's intent" plain. Here is what he told his Marines: speed is everything, keep moving no matter what; if we hit resistance, go around it; keep pushing north and do not stop.

What Mattis and his Marines were really trying to do was break the enemy's morale and drain his will to fight. By moving his force so fast, Mattis meant to sow panic, to make the enemy believe nothing on earth could stop their advance.

It worked. The Iraqi soldiers defending Al Kut and An Nasiriyah wore civilian clothes under their uniforms, so that the moment a chance came they could throw off the uniform, melt into the crowd, and slip away with their lives.

When our "commander's intent" is cover the canvas, we have a strong, clear order that sets all our priorities for us.

March on the finish line. Do not stop.

Go around the trouble spots. Keep advancing.

Why does covering the canvas work?


The genius of this idea is twofold. First, we find that once we have gone around a few of the hard spots, those hard spots tend to dissolve on their own. Second, once we reach our objective, however shakily we got there, the enemy gives up. He never expected us suddenly at his doorstep. He can only wave the white flag.

Our enemy, as artists, is Resistance. If we make the mistake of chasing perfectionism in the first draft, if we wrack our brains over getting the grammar right and take a whole week to finish Chapter One, then by the time we reach Chapter Four we have already hit the wall. Resistance will beat us.

But if we can stay nimble and keep moving, slapping paint on the canvas and words on the page until we have cobbled together something whole, however imperfect, then we are like Mattis's Marines arriving at the gates of Baghdad.

True, with the first draft finished there is still plenty of work left. But one way or another, we have reached high ground. We have something we can use and improve.

Cover the canvas.

(The end.)

A few words from the translator


I first came across this piece in happy xiao's newsletter "Coke," linked below. I recommend subscribing by email. (No, nobody is paying me to say that.)

Coke Newsletter: 2021-943183

The lesson in "Cover the Canvas" is a plain one.

Before exhaustion and procrastination get their hooks in you, get the thing mostly done, and leave the fine details for later.

Whenever you find yourself stuck and hesitating, say it to yourself like a charm:

Cover the Canvas!

Cover the canvas! Keep advancing!

I am Luna Mare. Thank you for reading.

You are welcome to reach me any way you like.

My email is lunar_mare_official@outlook.com.

Write to me anytime. I answer every letter. 🙂