Dare to Begin
Returning to my writing roots revealed a truth: the journey of creation starts with a single, imperfect step—daring to make a mark on the blank page.
Filter by Category
Filter by Author
Returning to my writing roots revealed a truth: the journey of creation starts with a single, imperfect step—daring to make a mark on the blank page.
Before I stumbled headlong into the world of software, I dreamed of being a writer. Recently, when I realized I needed a creative outlet to remind myself that my identity is bigger than my career, I started writing again. After about nine or ten false starts, I’m seven chapters into a YA novel.
At first, it was brutal, y’all. I’d stare at the blinking cursor on a blank page, and nothing would come out. I learned every detailed setting of Scrivener before I wrote a single sentence. Starting was impossibly hard.
I have a poster in my office of a Eugene Ware quote: “All glory comes from daring to begin.” I’ve used it as a coaching tool for years, coaxing people out of the paralysis that accompanies a pristine blank page to just start. Make a mark. Scribble. Word vomit. Make something awful. Soil that pristine blank page with the sheer audacity to make something new.
Once I finally did that with my novel—writing pages of words that I can assure you will never see the light of day—writing became much easier. (Much easier, I said… not easy. It’s still hard as hell.)
So here’s my encouragement to those of you stuck in that liminal zim-zum space just before the first bold act of creation: just start. Do something, anything, even if it’s awful. Especially if it’s awful.
Dare to begin.