Confession #27
I've got another confession to make. Are you sitting down? This is a big one. I don't want you to fall over in shock and bump your head.
Ready?
Are you sure?
Okay, here it is: every time I sit down to start Chapter One of a new book, I'm paralyzed with fear.
Seriously. I seize up. My chest feels tight, and the muscles in my jaw clench. My mind spins with insanity. What the heck is the first line? What if it's not catchy enough? How much do I put in the first chapter? What if I have no words left in me? Then I start to think of all the other things I need to do, because even cleaning is more attractive than starting a new book.
Today was such a day. A few days ago I had this kick-ass idea for a story. Friday I wrote the synopsis. Saturday I rewrote the synopsis, changing the story almost completely after having really thought about it. This morning I was going to start writing the chapters.
So I wouldn't get tempted by the sudden urge to reorganize my wardrobe, I went to the café. On the way, it began: the seizing, the clenching, the spinning. I wanted to turn around and go home. Starting it tomorrow wouldn't be so bad, right?
Instead I gave myself the usual pep talk. I've done this before—lots of times. I'm probably capable of doing it a few more. I just sit down and do it.
Once I arrived at the café, I pulled out my notebook, noted that I was a freak, and then began handwriting out what I wanted the first chapter to say. In minutes, I knew exactly what the first line needed to be, so I turned on Lassiter (my faithful lappie) and got going.
I wrote 2200 words. Not all of them are great, but I think I'm off to a good start. A couple edits and the beginning will be solid gold. I'm quite excited about this idea.
I wish I didn't go through this every time, but I guess it's part of my process. Fear and doubt—what a duo.
Have I disillusioned you? Are you stunned? Do you feel relieved because you have fears as you work too? Tell me. Inquiring Kates want to know.