Beginner’s luck

BY MICHELLE BARKER

Nothing strikes fear into a writer’s heart like facing down the blank page or screen. Every time you start a new project, there’s that feeling that maybe this time it won’t work. The great idea won’t show up, or the idea you have won’t go anywhere.

The fear of failure can be debilitating. Everyone hopes for a bit of luck at the beginning of a new draft. But luck is something you make. So, the question becomes: how can you make some luck for yourself when you start something new?

Give yourself permission to write crap

“Write crap” was the motto of Gail Anderson-Dargatz, my novel-writing professor in the UBC MFA program, and it worked. By giving ourselves permission to write poorly, we all met our deadlines with new work. Sometimes, yes, it was crap—but often it wasn’t.

Two things happen when you face the blank page: 1) You have a strong desire to be brilliant. You’re certain there must be an Atwoodian gene in there somewhere, and this time by God it’s going to come out. Except, when you sit down to write with the pressure of wanting to be brilliant, guess how many words you actually write? None.

2) You want to get it right the first time. Who wants to grind through all those months (and possibly years) of revision? But the desire for perfection creates the same pressure as the desire for brilliance, and perfectionism is the enemy of creativity.

On that note, forget about the hook

You know. That killer first sentence that your entire career hangs on. The one that will either have agents and publishers clamouring at your door or make them press delete on your submission.

Yes, the opening sentence must be stellar. So must the whole book. But that’s not going to happen in a first draft.

My novel-writing professor had another motto: writing is rewriting. First drafts aren’t meant to be shiny. They’re meant to be finished. The shine—maybe even the brilliance—happens later. You won’t get it right the first time. Just let that expectation go.

There’s a good chance you don’t know yet where your novel should start. Often, you don’t realize that until you’ve finished the first draft and have a better sense of the story you’re trying to tell. So, what’s the point of spending hours agonizing over your novel’s entry or obsessively revising the opening chapter before you’ve finished writing the book? None. Zero. Waste of time.

Instead, choose a place to start, and start. Move forward. Don’t go back and revise those first pages, focusing on them until they’re shinier than your kitchen floor. You’ll have a chance to do that later.

When you allow yourself to write crap, you destroy all those misconceptions about first drafts that become so incapacitating. You don’t have to be brilliant. You just have to write something. Set a daily goal, sit down, and get it done. Chances are it will turn out better than you expect.

Try outlining

I know. Right now, all you pantsers are reaching for your garlic and hoping for some daylight so that I’ll go away.

Outlining isn’t for everyone. However, I’ve been a pantser and I’ve been a plotter, and yes, I’m going to mention Gail Anderson-Dargatz again because in our novel-writing class, she wouldn’t let us begin a novel without an outline. It was torturous for me. I’d never written an outline before, and I never wanted to.

But now? I wouldn’t dream of starting a novel without one. For me, an outline is a time-saver. I’d much rather discover a story isn’t working at the synopsis stage and toss out three pages of outline instead of three hundred pages of a flawed draft. I’ve done both. Throwing out three hundred pages hurts more.

But an outline is also a security blanket. When I arrive at my desk to work on my new novel and am unsure what to do, I turn to my outline and think, right, that’s what I’d planned. And then I do it. Sometimes I read through the notes and think, no, that’s not what these characters would do. So, I change it and have them do something else. Either way, I’m filling the blank page rather than cleaning my kitchen floor…again.

Give yourself permission to have fun

Presumably that’s why you’re here. I hope you’re not here for the money. If you are, well, the joke’s on you.

The journey is the thing. If writing doesn’t bring you joy, then why do it?

Sometimes if I’m stuck, I turn to writing prompts to get myself back on track. Not everyone loves them, but I’ve surprised myself countless times by following Natalie Goldberg’s rules of keeping the hand moving and not worrying about grammar.

Take risks. Experiment with point of view or allow your story to go off in a new direction.

I recommend writing longhand for this exercise, because it provides a freedom you can’t get on a laptop.

Copy great work

Find a book you admire and copy it out by hand word for word.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not suggesting you pass this work off as your own. What I am suggesting is a form of learning that comes by absorption. When you take a great work one word at a time, you’ll notice things that I guarantee you missed when you were merely reading it. You’ll understand what the author is doing and how they’re doing it.

Every time I try this, I come away inspired—and it becomes a stepping-stone into my own work.

Be patient

One idea isn’t enough for a good story. You need that second idea, the one that turns everything on its head. Often it doesn’t come right away—and when it does, it’s usually when you’re not looking for it. On a long bike ride, in the shower, or my favorite: when you wake up in the morning and there it is.

Sometimes you must walk away and allow beginner’s luck to do its thing.

But…pay attention. That second idea could come from anywhere—a passing conversation, a movie, a walk in the park. Take yourself out to new places—an art exhibit, a different neighbourhood. You never know what will suggest itself to you.

As with most writing tools, what works for me might not work for you. But I hope something here will resonate and you’ll rush to your desk energized and inspired, ready to fill some pages with new words.

Michelle Barker lives in Vancouver, BC. She is the author of the award-winning novels, The House of One Thousand Eyes and My Long List of Impossible Things She holds an MFA in creative writing from UBC and works as a senior editor at The Darling Axe. Learn more at michellebarker.ca.