Recently, Natalie Whipple did a series of posts on her blog Between Fact and Fiction about writing beginnings (there is a part 2 and 3 as well). I read it with great interest. This is pretty much my biggest setback right now. If I look back to the days when I was young and wrote with great relish, it was even the bane of my process then.
I think there is just major pressure about writing the beginning to be just so. It is stressed that if your beginning sucks, no one important will ever be around to see the middle. This makes sense of course, but not for it to be so debilitating to someone who is not only writing her first novel, but who knows it is meant to be drivel. It is meant to be a learning experience. Yet, I let it hold me back.
The novel I have been agonizing about and nursing for the past 3 years actually has several beginnings. I've also written most of the body once (that I wrote before the beginning, and never quite got the correct beginning to match it up to). Now it doesn't even matter that I wrote all the rest, because there have been major concept changes in my head that demand everything to be done over.
Here are the first ~200 words to the very first incarnation ever of my WiP:
As I drove home, I was conflicted between feeling outrage for my boss, and outrage at myself. I had gotten fired? My stomach was on the floor of the car. Intense disappointment lingered like a large lump in its place. I would have to tell my parents. I would have to admit to everyone and eventually myself that I couldn’t be the successful journalist that I had dreamed of being.
My mind journeyed to different possibilities of where my life would go from here. I saw myself in a dirty pink bathrobe wearing camouflage pants and muddy, holy sneakers, warming my hands in front of a flaming barrel of garbage behind a slum house downtown. Of course, I could choose the more optimal route and exfoliate, thoroughly shave the nether regions of my body, and show up at amateur night at the strip club. Then I saw myself hanging upside down by my legs on a sticky pole, and getting pole burn as I slid down flailing my arms.
As my ridiculous thoughts wallowed out of control, I realized I was almost feeling a little bit better. Out of my despair, amazingly came a great relief.
I guess it's a little bit cheeky, and fits with the tone of what the original ideation was, but I know this would not win first place as The beginning for anyone.
Jump ahead 3 years, and this is the most current beginning I've conjured.
It was bad enough having to hear the alarm go off in my ear. The only thing worse was having to wrestle away the arm that confined the upper part of my body. The blaring was impossibly loud, and the arm was stiff around my body. I grumbled and shoved, propping myself up on my arm to reach over and hit snooze. I shook Mitch, since the alarm was set for him and all. He groaned and rolled over, taking half the blankets with him. So much for going back to sleep. I sighed and blinked my eyes at the dim glowing LED numbers, which still jumbled together. Five-fifteen. What the hell was I thinking?
I laid back against my pillow. The cold morning air was shocking after being nestled under warm blankets and trapped against another human all night. It was still the confused part of spring, and I chose to keep the thermostat off in the apartment. It was probably well into the 60’s inside, but I was adamant. I sat up again swung my legs over the bed. I found my slippers. My robe was hanging inside the bathroom door, which was all the way outside my bedroom.
This was written for NaNo this year, because I thought maybe that would be my inspiration to just write through it. It didn't work, as I ended November still on that same scene.
In between, there were a couple of other beginnings. I also know it is A Rule that a book is not to begin with the Main Character waking up. Yes, see above, already screwed. Another Rule is that a main character should not be driving anywhere to begin things. Yup, one of my more current starts is my MC driving somewhere. I am beating my head against the wall here. However, I've also had ones that started with more immediate action, as is sometimes suggested they should, and it feels too abrupt to me.
So what is my problem? I know that I can't improve a story until I get the story OUT! So why am I letting this hang me up?!
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