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How to kick off with a shitty first draft

Author

Lynne

Date Published

"202x is the perfect year to dive into content creation."


This line pops up every December like clockwork, and posts pushing it always rack up solid likes and shares.


Because year-end is prime time for setting big goals.


The wild irony of content creation is that platforms make it so easy to jump in that everyone thinks, "Hey, I could totally do this," turning "being unknown" into a crushing blow to the ego; at the same time, they're flooded with tales of KOLs, fueling that nagging FOMO—"If you don't start now, you'll miss the boat."


These pressures team up, making "get creating" the ultimate New Year's resolution.


But here's the harsh truth: most aspiring creators hit a wall the second they stare at a blank page with that relentless blinking cursor.


Is it laziness? Classic writer's block?


Not always.


You want to write something—anything.


But total freedom can lead to total paralysis. With no rules, where do you even begin?


Then you get into self-loathing: this sentence sounds flat, that idea's too generic, always chasing trends a step too late... and poof, you close the tab.


Your New Year's goal fizzles before it even sparks.


The real villain in creation is the terror of starting from scratch.


It's like physics: static friction is way tougher than keeping things moving.


A blank page sucks up your energy just by existing. Shifting from zero ideas to that first sentence? That's the most brutal part.


Last week, someone in our user community posted: "With AI, writing basically just requires thumbs."


That hit me: We act like creation demands heroic bravery, but bravery is often just a matter of smart design.


At its heart, creation isn't pulling genius out of thin air—it's reacting to stuff that's already out there. AI acts as the spark, so you never truly start from zero.


So, how do you actually pull it off?


Step one: steal like an artist

Our user ops lead, Nico, once shared a video showing how to use YouMind to turn a viral YouTube clip into a polished blog post in minutes.


That demo was a game-changer for that one user I mentioned above, who'd tried (and bailed on) the creation journey multiple times.


She finally hit "publish" on her first piece, all thanks to one shift: She quit obsessing over "What the hell should I write?"


Instead, whenever she spotted a video or article that sparked agreement, inspiration, or debate, she'd toss the link into YouMind.


Boom. Seconds later, AI whipped up a rough draft built on that source.


Just like that, the blank-page nightmare was history.


Austin Kleon, the guy behind the bestseller Steal Like an Artist, has this killer habit called Blackout Poetry.


He'd snag the day's New York Times, grab a Sharpie, and black out 90% of the text. Whatever words survived? He'd string them into a poem.


Image source: Slice of Time


Kleon says it himself: He never starts a poem on a blank page.


That's the genius of Steal Like an Artist: Creation isn't about inventing everything—it's about hunting for the right sparks.


The newspaper is his spark. Sifting through a sea of words to pluck out gems turns creation into a fun scavenger hunt for him.


In chemistry, activation energy is the bare minimum push needed to kick off a reaction.


A blank page forces you to summon that energy from sheer willpower and your entire life experience—enough to scare off 99% of us.


But pre-existing material? It's like a catalyst, slashing that energy barrier. No more creating from nothing—just a nudge, and the ideas flow.


As a creation rookie, skip the "What to write?" angst. Hunt for stuff that gets you fired up: an article, a video, even a comment that ticks you off.


Drop it into YouMind, jot a quick note on your take—agree, disagree, add your spin—and let AI build a starter draft from the source plus your input.


See? It's not writing; it's chatting. And chatting? That's easy for anyone.


Of course, "borrowing ideas" or "remixing" might set off alarms:

Isn't this just straight-up plagiarism?


If you slapped it online as-is, yeah, it'd be plagiarism.


But that spark is your launchpad, not the finish line.


It's like kindling for a campfire: It gets your tiny flame roaring. Once it's going, the kindling burns away—you fuel the blaze with your own logs.


Step two: embrace shitty first draft

When you hand AI your material and it spits out a draft, reset your expectations:


Don't chase perfection. In fact, lean into the mess: mediocre, clunky, repetitive, loaded with AI's bland clichés. If it's 60% usable, that's a win.


The only mission of your first draft is to exist—so you have something to tweak.


In her timeless book Bird by Bird, author Anne Lamott nailed it with Shitty First Drafts, a concept that's saved countless creators from self-doubt.


She argues that every great piece starts as a hot mess you can barely stand. The draft just needs to be there, even if it's rambling and unpolished.



However, most of us amateurs can't even churn out a bad draft—perfectionism kills every crappy sentence in the crib.


So, entering AI. It handles the cringe for you.


AI has zero ego and endless stamina. It cranks out that essential-but-ugly draft in seconds, no sweat.


Now, you're fast-forwarded from "writing" to "editing" mode.


Step three: edit like a producer

Rick Rubin, the legendary producer behind Johnny Cash's hits and countless Grammys, is a total outlier.


He rarely composes, arranges, or tweaks tracks in software.


So how'd he make magic?


He'd lounge on a couch, play demos, and slash away. Cut until nothing's left to cut, then remix—swap vibes, tweak rhythms.


In the AI era, Rubin's style could basically be called "vibe producing."


It's the ultimate chill zone for creators.


Staring at AI's cliche output? Channel Rubin. Skip the stress of crafting sentences—just critique:

  • This line screams "AI bot"—axe it.
  • I've got a rawer story from my life; swap it in.
  • Tone's too formal; toss in my signature phrase.


AI text is like filtered water: pure but flavorless. Your edits infuse it with real life—raw experiences, gut emotions, quirky biases.


Editing is much easier than starting fresh.


From sculptor to gardener

Old-school creation turned you into a sculptor: Facing a blank slab (the page), you'd hack away with pure grit and skill. Each swing drained you, and one slip could ruin it.


AI flips the script: Now you're a gardener. Step into a plot already buzzing with plants, dirt, and weeds. No inventing from scratch—just decide: Trim the dead stuff, prop up the blooms, nourish the weak spots.


Sculptors grind; gardeners vibe.


I once tried semaglutide—that weight-loss shot Elon Musk raved about—to manage my weight.


It's controversial (hello, rebound risks), but it taught me this: The toughest part of losing weight isn't the hunger or workouts—it's the lag in seeing results.


You grind for a week on diet and exercise, hop on the scale... nothing. Total buzzkill.


Semaglutide made the start effortless: One jab, and hunger vanished. I saw quick wins (mostly water weight), without fighting my brain.


I'd think, "This isn't so bad." Momentum built: I eased into better eating, added workouts.


By the time my body adapted and it quit working, I'd locked in solid habits.


AI in creation is like that for weight loss: It blasts through the startup hump, giving you a draft in 10 minutes flat. That quick win? It's the hook that keeps you going.


The myth of "boldness"

Creation feels like free solo climbing—no ropes, sheer terror.


The blank page is your cliff: Every word has to land perfectly. Mess up? Fear of nonsense, irrelevance, or zero readers drains your drive.


AI hands you a harness.


Note: It doesn't climb for you.


You still grip each hold, build the muscle, hone the skills.


But falling? Not an option anymore.


Even if a sentence flops or an idea fizzles, you won't plummet—you've got that draft as your safety net.


You're climbing, just without the dread.


Learn smarter, create bolder.


That is YouMind's slogan. Boldness is a smart pick.


You opt for a process that skips the void, a climb with built-in safeguards.


To make grabbing that "harness" a no-brainer, YouMind's dropping 30% off plus holiday perks for Christmas and New Year's.


Snag 30% off here: https://youmind.com/pricing


No more facing the void solo.


Here's to your 2026 creation goals taking off effortlessly—all you need are thumbs.

——

This piece and its visuals are co-created with YouMind.