The only thing that matters is that you write, write, write. It doesn’t have to be good writing. As a matter of fact, almost all first drafts are pretty bad.
Walter Mosley
It’s my first blog post in this new iteration of my blog! Hello!
After they received my “Jumpstart Your Writing in Six Steps” workbook, several people asked me, but how do I start, actually? I love this question. At first I thought the answer was obvious: You start by starting! You sit and put down words. Easy, right? (Hahahahaaaa sorry.)
But then I thought about it some more, and I think this is actually a couple of concerns lumped together. It’s: 1) How do I tolerate the feeling of starting? and 2) What do I start with?
So let’s examine these concerns separately. Tolerating the feeling of starting, the sensation of staring at the empty page, is something you have to practice, just like you have to practice writing. In some ways you’re always starting. It gets easier, for sure, but that’s mostly because you’re used to the feeling. You won’t write one day and the next feel like, whew, I’ve started already, this is simple. Nope—you’re starting again the next day. You have to decide again and again to begin.
The good news is that everyone feels like this, and there is nothing ominous about the feeling. My friend Susan, who’s written numerous award-winning mystery novels, once told me she still feels like a beginner when she starts a new book. I once asked her how to write a novel, and she was like, "You tell me." No one ever truly feels like they know what they're doing.
Okay, so you know you have to tolerate some discomfort … then what? You write a shitty first draft, as Anne Lamott recommends in her seminal book, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. Shitty first drafts are essential, and freeing. The other option is paralysis, which I do not recommend. With shitty first drafts you can let your fingers move around the keyboard or let your pen travel across the paper or babble into a recording device; I don’t know how you work.
There is a yawning gulf between starting and creating something worth reading, and the bridge is the shitty first draft. It’s the way forward.
The shitty first draft is also known as the “child’s draft.” You let the inner child who never gets to come out run roughshod all over your pages. Let them say whatever they hell they want. There should be an element of play to this. This is easier said than done, especially when the inner critic is also lurking around the playground, taking notes and shaking their head. You have to let that voice know, firmly and with conviction, that they are not welcome here. No critics in playgrounds. That’s creepy as hell.
Yes, say the readers, yes but what do you start with? I mean what do I write?
Obviously I can’t tell you what to write. I will say this: Start small and simple. Don’t sit down to write a novel or a memoir if you’re sitting down for the first time in who knows how many years. Decide to tell a story or share a memory. Tell the story like you’re writing a letter to a beloved friend, someone who’s not going to judge you for putting your apostrophes in the wrong place. Figure out how long you’re going to write: 20 minutes is fine; 5 minutes is good, if you can focus during it. Whatever you can handle.
If you haven’t finished the story, perfect: Now you have something to return to. Ernest Hemingway famously ended his writing sessions in mid-sentence. That way, he always knew where he was starting when he came back. See? Even Hemingway needed tricks to start. Use whatever works, and let me know how you’re doing.