On being a confident beginner

begin, and begin again, and begin again

Allow me to discuss one of my non-writing-related hobbies, sewing (although I do a lot of thinking while I sew, so it ends up being writing-related). One form of sewing works like this: you decide what you want to sew (a shirt, say) and then you look for patterns that will instruct you in how to make a shirt like you want. The patterns are categorized by skill – beginner, confident beginner, intermediate, and advanced. An advanced pattern has more pieces and curved shapes, and more complicated construction techniques, like zippers, darts, or welt pockets.

The way to become an advanced sewist is by sewing a lot, and trying new things. That’s really the only way. You can try to make an advanced pattern before you have all the skills (in fact, that’s a great way to get the skills) but it will probably be slow, frustrating, and confusing, and the finished product won’t look how you hoped it would.

I’m less likely to view writing as broken down by skill level, but surely it is. I get an idea for a novel and it takes four times to even get through a zero draft, because I didn’t realize the idea was an advanced one, with complex world building, sympathetic villains, a morally gray hero, and a local dialect I need to invent.

Can you really ever be an advanced writer, though?

The way it works for me is that every idea seems to require a new formula, new skills, and a new approach. The ways to make a story are endless, and they each snap together in my brain in new and surprising ways. 

It is so easy to collect ideas. I have a closet full of fabric and patterns, and a notebook full of story ideas to write or revise. There can be comfort in the not-yet-failed place of future possibilities. At some point, though, I need to make the thing – the skirt, the dress, the story. At some point, I have to do the work, and begin.

I identify as a confident beginner, in everything. I confidently begin, worry through the middle, and triumphantly end, so I can begin again, with confidence. 

The only way to get the skills is to create. You can read about how to sew a zipper, but the skill isn't yours until you do it. Watching instructional videos doesn’t mean you’ll know how to play the guitar or moonwalk. You have to try. You have to practice.

It’s a cliché for someone to say they have a great idea for a book but they haven’t actually started writing it. It’s easier to be a confident dreamer than a confident beginner who actually picks up a pen and starts writing words. 

It’s easier not to write.

Until it isn't.

There is a point where all of my project plans start to weigh on me and I need to do something – cut out fabric, make progress on the novel. As a confident beginner, I have the tools to get started, the discipline to do the work, and a keen knowledge of what I don’t know.

What gets me to do the work more than anything is that I want to get to the finished thing. I want to wear the dress. I want to publish the book. I can stand on that cliff of possibility for only so long before I know I need to step off into the unknown and make the thing.

I sit back and close my eyes and imagine that I can sew a pair of jeans that fit me perfectly, that I can make light and flaky croissants, that I can write a bestselling book that makes people laugh and cry. And truthfully, all of those things are possible, if I do the work. If I confidently begin. Without that, I have nothing but a closet full of ideas.

It is May and I have a lot coming at you leading up to Help Wanted: One Rooster’s publication. The book is out on June 18, and starting next week, I’m publishing weekly essays about the making of this book, the why and how of it taking ten years from book deal to publication. To thank you for sticking with me, I am giving away two picture book critiques or half-hour creative coaching sessions (winner’s choice) to paying subscribers of this newsletter. I’ll also be giving away a copy of the book, and that’s open to all subscribers.

As a paying subscriber, you get access to exclusive essays (like my recent one about Cal Newport’s newest book, and how his holding tank / action bucket method has honestly and truly changed the way I work). You also get discounts for my online courses, and you get my 31 Days of Pep Talks course for free.

Thoughts and Links

• Help Wanted: One Rooster was called a “workplace comedy” by PW, who also said it’s “The Office meets Chicken Run.”

• I am still mostly trying to not read the internet. It’s not always easy. But it does mean I don’t have the list of links to share with you that I normally might. In lieu of that, I share with you these photos from my walk with Cosmo this morning. I’m still laughing about how genuinely offended this cat was that we dared to exist in her space.

Books I read recently and loved

Disclosure: book links in this newsletter are affiliate links to Bookshop.org, a site which supports independent bookshops.

• If you were a theater kid, are a theater kid, or have a theater kid in your life, you must get Made Glorious, Lindsay Eagar’s latest YA. It’s engrossing, diabolical, and fantastic, comes with music, and is the best book I’ve read about how it feels to be part of a high school drama production. Kirkus called it “sensationally tragic” and Booklist calls it “a troubling, unforgettable read” (both starred reviews) and it’s all that and more.

• I Am Stuck by Julia Mills is an adorable picture book about the frustration and annoyance of being stuck, and how do you even get unstuck? So good.

• Forager by Michelle Dowd is a fascinating read. It’s a memoir about growing up as part of a religious cult led by her grandfather, full of misogyny and survivalism. My upbringing feels very…soft, in comparison.