failefayce asked you:

So I have this problem. To me, the first sentence is the first hurdle in writing; and I don’t even get some time to get up to a sprint before it hits me! And, like real hurdles, it’s just a tiny bit too tall for me to try and climb over, let alone actually jump! I can’t bring myself to skip it and just write the rest, but getting past it is difficult. I know it’s all the white space intimidating me, but still! Have any tips?

This is definitely the mark of your inner critic.

What the inner critic does is remind you that you have taste, but uses your taste against you. You’ve read books you love, developing your taste, but when you try to write, the inner critic fogs up your vision so what you think you’re seeing is nothing like the books you wish you could write. Then you feel less inclined to write, scared of how bad it’ll look in your foggy vision.

But, if you don’t write, you don’t get better. Seriously, this is the Writer’s Conundrum.

The first line is jam-packed with expectations, as if the whole book depends on it. First lines are a form of art in a completely separate category from writing the rest of the story, and this form in particular can take a lot of practice to hone. Here’s how I used to study up on first lines:

1. Go to a bookstore and read the first line of every book in whatever section of fiction you prefer. I used to go to the teen section and read the first line of each book to get an idea of how things worked.
2. Write down the first lines. Having a reference sheet to refer back to always helps, especially when you draw blank after blank or your inner workings jam up. Be wary of turning this into a clutch, however. A safety blanket is cool, but don’t let yourself become too dependent on it.
3. Dissect those first lines. This is starting to sound like homework, but this part exercises your brain into thinking critically, into putting what you observed into a word problem and solving it. Ask yourself why this line works. Ask yourself why you like it and why you don’t. Ask yourself how the line serves as a hook for readers. If you’re feeling extra bold, ask yourself how the whole opening paragraph expands upon the first line effectively.

Here’s how you can take what you learned and get practicing:

1. Take your story and try jotting down words that you want to go into the first line. Keep reminding yourself that these words are important, but not at all permanent. Every word you write is important, but every word is worth deleting if necessary.
2. Try assembling the words into as many different versions of a first line that you can. If you mess up, don’t delete what you wrote. Hit enter and try again. If you have to, use a hard return and start over on the next page so you don’t have to keep looking back at your unfinished sentence(s).
3. Repeat the above two steps as many times as you need for as many opening ideas as you have. You might be waffling between one idea and another. Try out all the ideas.
4. Take the best sentence (or sentences, if you had multiple ideas), and keep in mind it doesn’t have to be perfect or even completely finished. Just take it and write it into an opening paragraph. Write multiple opening paragraphs if you have to. Tweak the first line only once you’ve finished the opening paragraph. Do it as many times as you want.
5. Set it aside. Don’t look back. Keep writing if you can. Only come back to it once you’ve sat on your hands a day or two and haven’t looked at it at all.
6. Reread your whole paragraph. Know that the first sentence you made might not be the first sentence at all. The true first sentence might be somewhere in that paragraph, or somewhere else down the page. Oftentimes, the first line we craft is NOT the first line of the story. Oftentimes, we don’t even know where the first line is until after we’ve finished the entire manuscript.

Try out these things, but above all else, let yourself fail. This is seriously a hard thing to do. “Failure” is one scary word. But we learn a lot more about how to be better writers from our failures than we do from our victories. Repeat the process as many times as you need to. If you fail, take a break, give yourself some space, then get right back in the chair (or wherever it is you write).