I don't know how to start off the piece with a killer first line. Some prolific writer wrote in some book somewhere that the perfect first sentence may be the 187th sentence you write. Or something like that. So I guess that means we keep writing and writing and writing and editing and revising and rewriting and finally -- ahhhh. There we go. There's the sentence on the page/screen/sidewalk and it is perfection.
No, not perfection. Please don't get caught in the perfection trap (again), Meg. Besides, if the first sentence is perfect, then is it all downhill from there? Unless you make yourself crazy by making every sentence that follows just as perfect... But don't do that. Maybe don't think so much about it?
Maybe what I need to do is try a zen-like approach to writing, which means I don't write and instead sit on a black cushion for 12 hours a day getting hit on my back with a bamboo stick. Okay, no. It means that I write when I write, I chop wood when I chop wood.
Most likely I won't be chopping wood anytime soon, although the days are getting brisker. But I will be writing, and a very important step in the process of writing is to, well, actually write.
I think about writing, I stress out from thinking about writing, I distract myself from the stress of writing by not writing and instead I busy myself by chopping wood and/or taking important quizzes on BuzzFeed to find out which Disney Princess I am. And this needs to stop.
There are so many lumberjacks out there that can do a better job at wood chopping than I. So let me let them chop the wood while I write about the ax separating the fibers along the grain. And sure, there are also countless writers out there who can construct a better first sentence than I can, but even imperfect logs burn and create a fire that can warm an army.
I'm on my mark. Now it's time to go.
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