Getting Started

The hardest part about writing, for me, is getting started. The white computer page is daunting, like an early-season jump into a mountain lake. Thinking of the initial shock is enough to make me question the whole thing: Brrrr . . . can I really do this? Is it worth it? Maybe I should stay on the shore where I’m dry and warm. I’m a complete wuss in cold water.

BUT. Once I leap, I’m in. I’m swimming. I feel alive. I did it. And I want to do it again.

Writing, for me, is like that.

(It’s January, so naturally I’ve been daydreaming about warmer weather and laketime.)

One of the many things that amazes me about our three daughters is how fearlessly they dive into things. At the lake, they cannonball into the icy water long before I’ve even warmed up to the idea. When they have a blank page, they immediately dive in and know what to draw or write. They’re unburdened by the “rules” of art and form and neatness. For them, diving in and getting started on a project is just a chance to have fun.

When I sat down to write this post, I shuffled a few things around on my desk and then got back up to do just about everything else. I should load the breakfast dishes first, I thought. Wipe up the counters. Throw in a load of laundry. Check my emails. Schedule those doctor appointments I’ve been meaning to. I’m letting my ideas percolate, I tell myself. But, am I?

I’m too often guilty of trying to shape and critique my ideas before I even put the words on the page. All that does is hinder my ability to create. I’d be better off just letting ideas flow as they come, at least for those first drafts. And I can worry about form and shaping and meaning later.

So I force myself to buck up, dive into the page, and start swimming. Every day. One word after another. It definitely isn’t graceful—there’s a lot of flailing and splashing of words at first—but I’m invigorated. It gets less scary each time, and I want to continue.

So I write this reflection as a reminder to myself: Just get started. Again and again.

Cannon—ball!