There’s a terrible moment not too long after you’ve finished a story where the elation of reaching your ending ebbs a bit and you’re left with the realization that now you’ve got to actually read the crap that you wrote. All those overly flowery sentences where you were being poetic, and all the random piles of details where you were feeling your way into a descent description, all the dialogue that goes nowhere, all of it, it all has to be read. By you. It’s horrible. It’s never a good idea to show your first drafts to anyone because they’re generally so awful, the problem is that at some point I have to read this thing in order for it ever to become a second or third draft.
Nobody should ever have to lay eyes on a first draft. That was his lesson.