- Two-Week CNF Workshops: You Choose the Week(s) and Topic(s)
- The Writers Circle, Fall 2016. I'm teaching Submissions (South Orange); Beginning (Montclair); Multi-Genre Workshop (Summit)
- * I Should Be Writing! * Boot Camp: Reclaim Your Writing Life. A solo, on-demand, online course. Begin any time.
- Writing Coaching - Customized Assistance, Accountability, Feedback (booking Fall 2016)
- Editorial Services -- Hire Me for Editing, Feedback, Consultation, Writing
- My Writing / Selected Publications
Monday, January 12, 2009
Writing is simple: Start at the beginning? Or not.
Where, and how, do writers begin on a piece of work?
My best friend from childhood is a successful professional, a really smart woman, but whenever we talk about writing, she says something like, "I don't know how you write. I wouldn't know where to begin." She thinks I do – hah!
Well, maybe I do. When it's a short essay, say, under 2,000 words, I often have a possible, or probable, opening in mind and almost always, a definitive idea for – or even the complete -- closing line. I find this intuitive approach works something like a boundary; I know the parameters and make sure to stay within the borders – which of course I have planted and so I do feel free to move as I go along, but I find a short piece often demands that one keep to a relatively narrow course.
On the other hand, when I'm writing a much longer piece, say in the neighborhood of 4,000 to 7,000 words or more, the edges are less clear, and it's not unusual for me to not know quite where or how to begin. But begin I do, invariably in the middle. Sometimes at the end. Less often, at the beginning.
I find I usually write some of the beginning as I go, though it often stays unrelentingly murky far into the project. At some point, I begin to panic that I don't have a good opening, especially when I'm near to closing in on what I think will be the right ending. This occurs only after a completely circuitous and unexpected route through the piece in all directions, involving much rewriting, thousands more words than I need, and high anxiety. It's at this point when I see -- for the umpteenth time -- that all will be well, that in fact I had to get to the end first because, at least for me, the end almost always dictates how the beginning should be written.
I'll say that again. On a longish piece, it's when I get to the end that I usually know where to start.
I keep trying to tell myself, and lately I've begun suggesting to students, to trust this somewhat mysterious methodology. Perhaps one day I will be able to listen to my own advice.
Susan Bono, the editor at Tiny Lights, an online journal of personal narrative, recently asked me to write something, something quite short, to share with other writers on this topic of beginnings.
Read it for yourself here. Then let me know how you tackle beginnings and getting started.