The Big Halftime Speech After Your Team Writes A Terrible First Draft
Coach comes storming into the locker room in a fit of rage. He grabs a chair and tosses it across the room. Then snaps a MacBook Pro over his knee. He looks down, hangdog dejected, and runs his hand through his hair searching for answers.
When I look around this room, first of all, it’s a pigsty. Can you please pick up after yourselves a little better? Secondly, are you guys on drugs?
Like, I don’t even know where to begin. You call that a first draft? What the nuts is going on out there?! You guys can’t write a sentence to save your life. Right from the opening line you’ve been flat. I’m truly at a loss of words at your loss of words. Also, I can’t believe I just broke my MacBook, that was stupid.
The focus just isn’t there, fellas. What are you even writing about? Like, what’s the point of your premise? And please don’t tell me you’re trying some self-aware meta crap. We’ve talked about that. Self-referential doesn’t win championships. Or book deals. Or the chance of me getting back my MacBook Pro.
Oh, this is supposed to be a humor piece? Now that’s hilarious. Way funnier than what you’re writing out there. You guys are forcing it. Don’t try to write something funny, think of something that is funny, then write that thing down. Like your lack of joke-writing ability. And bend your knees.
I swear if I see one more pun or cliche, I’m yanking your tail out of the game for good. Do I make myself clear? Oh, right, I forgot, clarity isn’t in your vocabulary. You live in a tangential metaverse where everything just magically makes sense no matter how jumbled you make the narrative.
Guys, we gotta get on the same page here. There is no “I” in “team,” but there is in “voice” and “punchline.” Remember those? The things we worked on in practice that are clearly not translating on to the page. Well, “I” wish you had the “talent” to do them.
Listen, there is a time and a place for milking the clock, but dear God, you are the Michael Jordan of procrastination. Why are you in silk pajamas at 2pm on a Tuesday? No, you may not call timeout in the middle of this halftime speech.
Your pacing is atrocious. Cadence, non-existent. Are you familiar with the term transition? Push the tempo! The other writers are running circles around you out there! Also, when I say “take it to the rack,” that does not mean find the nearest mattress for a nap. No more timeouts!!
Every move you make is so expected. It’s like the other team is just waiting for you to get there. We need to surprise our readers. Keep them on their toes. Then get them off their toes. Basically, we need to chop off their toes and feed them the toes at a brand-new French restaurant with exotic spices, nightly specials and charming service. Catch my drift?!
And don’t be afraid to drive into the paint. Despite the umpteen times you’ve been denied — so, so many rejection letters this season — you can’t fear writer’s block. Remember, you miss 100% of the pieces you don’t submit.
Coach awkwardly does a slow clap by himself. Really slow build. Takes forever. No one joins in.
Now let’s get out there and throw a huge plot twist into this piece! Like informing the reader I’m not only the coach, but I’m the players, too! That this is a first-person account of writing a terrible first draft! Whatya say, guys! Let’s go out there and write something that isn’t total garbage!
