Messy Beginnings
Productive discomfort and embracing the idea of beginning again (and again and again . . .)
For me, starting is hands down THE hardest part of writing. The same goes for starting new routines (like that Sunday morning Pilates class), new activities (ukulele), and new habits (too many to list). I’d have thought that after starting so many writing projects, it would have gotten easier.
Nope.
Still hard. Every. Single. Time.
But I have learned my rhythms. That means that I now know the beginning will be totally awful why do I torture myself this way??? . . . uncomfortable. When I sit down to begin something new, it feels like walking blindfolded into a house I don’t know. I bump into walls. Everything feels awkward and uncertain. But I’ve learned to recognize this feeling now: productive discomfort.
So many of us (especially writers) experience that discomfort and immediately assume something’s wrong.
The idea must be bad.
We must be bad.
Not creative enough. Not disciplined enough. Not [insert your inner critic’s go-to insult here].
The Tiny Frame (thank you, Anne Lamott)
If you haven’t read Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird book yet, get yourself a copy and put it near your desk. It’s not the kind of book to read in a sitting (I mean, you can, but it’s not how you’ll get the most value from it). It’s an excellent book for dipping into, especially when you’re feeling stuck. In it, she talks about a tiny frame she keeps on her desk. If she’s feeling stuck, all she has to do is imagine filling that frame. It’s her reminder to start small and specific.
Write one sentence. One vivid image. One single line of dialogue.
That’s all. And you will have started.
Here’s how I like to use it:
Imagine a large picture, like a painting or a television screen. If you held that tiny frame up to it, you would only see a small part of the whole. That full image is your story. What’s in the frame is just a wee bit of it. Write just enough to fill that frame in as much specific detail as you can.
For example, if you know that a scene in your story takes place in a kitchen, describe only what is outside the window (another frame). This is something your character might see, day after day, in all types of weather. The road? The back yard? Do they get a glimpse into the neighbor’s yard? (Or even better, into their neighbor’s house??)
Once you’ve described what’s outside the window frame, you could move to a few sentences about what’s sitting on the frame. A knick knack? A plant? (Dead or alive and what does this say about them as a person?) A broken porcelain cup they keep meaning to fix with super glue? (How did it break? Why is it worth saving?)
Then you could move to a few sentences about the person themselves. At what time of day do they look out this window? While doing dishes? While drinking coffee? Late at night? What (or who) do they hope to see? Who might they dread to see? What do they miss and why? What’s distracting them? (And now, you have moved into some delicious dramatic irony because we, the readers can see what they are missing.)
The entire story/ book / character arc is far too big to try to grasp all at once. If you build it detail by detail, the story starts to unfold.
Begin Again
I would love to be the kind of writer who writes every single day. But I’m not. (Confessing that here feels a tad uncomfortable. I mean, I did title this Imposter Syndrome. Now you know why.) I have aspired to a daily writing habit for years. I continue to fail, and I continue to aspire.
So often, what happens for me is that I get into a good flow, three or four days in a row, each day gets a little easier, I start to feel like I’m getting a rhythm and then BAM, a dentist’s appointment, or random school holiday, or I hit a hard part and decide my time would be better spent weeding the garden. And I’m out.
In my yoga class, my favorite teacher likes to tell us, “Begin again.” She says it when you fall out of a pose or your mind drifts off to your to-do list. No drama. No shame. Just come back.
It’s the same with writing.
Begin again.
Sometimes beating yourself up about how you’ve failed is just another form of procrastination.
Beginning again is about giving yourself permission to do something that might be hard, that might be new to you, that might be uncomfortable, and that likely will be something you might fail at.
Writing Around the Edges
Right now, I’m at the very beginning of a new novel. I haven’t written Chapter One yet. (That feels way too official.) Instead, I have:
random thoughts in the Notes app on my phone (mostly typed late at night when I should be asleep)
notes in Scrivener, but again, nothing under the “chapter” section (yet)
some random Word docs helpfully labeled “car thoughts,” and “what the $%& is this book about,” and “May 18”
a notebook like the one below. This is something that I’ll use throughout the project. By the time the book is done, it will be full.
I call this phase writing around the edges. I also call it writing for information. It’s not lyrical or page-turn-y or interesting for anyone but me, but it is essential. World building + character building = plot building.
When I start a new writing project, there are usually a few details I know, but so many more that I don’t. Not knowing is deeply uncomfortable. I just keep going back to what I know over and over again, trying to build outwards from it. In this picture above, I knew that each character would be connected to a single event, but that event would send them in different directions.
Eventually (and this is what I mean by learning your writing rhythm), I know that some detail will crack open a character or a plot point. When that happens, some of the other details I’ve been generating fall into place. It’s a great feeling, like the story is finally revealing itself. It makes all that awful discomfort 1000% worth it.
Recommendations for Further Inspiration
As I continue to discover more great Substacks and podcasts, I’ll share them here. Here are some I’ve found particularly inspiring:
The Book Maven Unbound - “Plotters and Pantsers with Jennifer Haigh”. This episode was just published. Host, Bethanne Patrick, talks to novelist Jennifer Haigh about the process of writing her most recent book, Rabbit Moon. There’s lots of great advice and info in this Substack - I highly recommend it.
Thriller Thursday - This Substack is jointly written by eleven thriller writers (!!) and is filled with writing tips, book recommendations, and author interviews. Additionally, some of the writers who contribute to Thriller Thursday also host excellent podcasts, where they delve into the writing process with fellow writers. Check out Carter Wilson’s Making It Up and Danielle Girard’s Killer Women Podcast.
Encantada by Cynthia Pelayo and her Writers Write series. Each week, Cynthia features one writer answering one question: “What is your best craft advice?” Take a look - I have no doubt you’ll find something that inspires you.
How do you begin? I’d love to hear. Please leave a comment if you want to share.
Excellent advice: " I just keep going back to what I know over and over again, trying to build outwards from it." I'm right there with you! :)
This is fantastic advice, Jennifer. Great methods and strategies for getting started on a writing project, whether it's big or small. Totally agree that just getting going can be the hardest part!