“It is the beginning of a work that the writer throws away.”
—Annie Dillard, The Writing Life
When I was younger, I always found it so frustrating whenever I had to start a piece of writing then later figure out my opening wasn’t right and I’d have to revise it. I’d spend days rehearsing the opening in my head until I feel like I have the right one, write it, and refuse to budge even when the piece would have probably been served by something better. I spent all that time thinking of that beginning after all; I’m not going to give it up! It’s a tendency I see now when I’m teaching and I would humbly suggest reframing it, because with years of experience I’ve found a method that generally works better.
Now, when I’m beginning a piece, I revel in the high probability that at least the first page, possibly even most of the first draft, won’t actually make it to the piece that other people will see. How lucky not to have all that pressure, to have the space to just have fun on the page without other people’s expectations and judgments getting in the way. When I read my work that comes out of this impulse, the sense of discovery and adventure is palpable, which gives the writing an energy it didn’t have with my old method. Giving myself space to play at the beginning lets me surprise myself, and so surprise the reader in ways I couldn’t do when I refused to start unless I already knew what I was going to write.
So the next time you find yourself stuck at the start, I encourage you to think of the opening as a place to have fun. It’s even better if you give yourself time to write a few openings before you keep going, just to give yourself a sense of the infinite possibilities. In my experience, the work isn’t only better that way, but also a lot more enjoyable.
~M.
P.S. This piece I just wrote for Catapult on where I write is a good addendum to this post plus I also wrote a review for NYT of Kit Heyam’s wonderful global trans history book, Before We Were Trans.