In Annie Dillard’s brilliant book The Writing Life, she begins one section like this:
It is the beginning of a work that the writer throws away.
A painting covers its tracks. Painters work from the ground up. The latest version of a painting overlays earlier versions, and obliterates them. Writers, on the other hand, work from left to right. The discardable chapters are on the left. The latest version of a literary work begins somewhere in the work’s middle, and hardens toward the end.
Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life
I like this because so many people fear the blank page on account of starting. This absolves you from being scared. It’s gonna just get thrown out anyway, so be gone with it.
This takes the pressure off starting. These beginnings will, by their very nature, feel more necessary because they were your first little darlings and thus harder to kill.
No matter. Be brutal. Be relentless. Be fearless.
