After my last post On the Art of Finishing, I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings, and beginning again. I wrote that I like the finality of finished things. But I’ve realized since that I also feel lost, without direction, once I’ve finished them. There’s a comfort and security in working on something that consumes all your free time and energy: you never have to wonder what to do next.
But I’ve reached that time of uncertainty, again. What to focus on, what to do? The idea of beginning a new writing project seems overwhelming, and not quite right.
I opened computer folders and found dozens of documents with half-cooked ideas and beginnings of essays I’d once begun but left unfinished. I wonder how many writers have these kinds of files, undeveloped, undone.
Sometimes, it’s easier to start afresh, with a new blank page. The idea of it is easier, anyways. But there are hidden costs. I have to think of something completely new to write about.
With picking up something I had begun before, I do have to go back and revisit what I used to think was a good idea and try to discern what actually is from what is not.
But there’s a sense of having saved something worthwhile.
I go through second-hand clothing stores, and fix things that are broken rather than unnecessarily buying something new. I don’t like waste, or throwing away something that still has potential.
If I like the finality of finished things, I also like the feeling of picking up something that’s been relegated as unworthy and giving it a second chance.
And so, I decided to pick up an old essay, and begin again.
Question: How do you begin again after you’ve finished?
This is beautiful. I love the idea of fixing things that may have been thought of as trash. I’ve done the same thing with my short stories that seemed to have been forgotten. I just hate the thought of wasting, whether it’s just stuff or even time.
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Thanks so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it and that it resonated with you! I know what you mean about wasting time . . . I wonder if that’s part of the reason I’m wanting to go back to these previous pieces and rework them. Neat to know that you’re doing the same thing with your short stories. Thanks for commenting!
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Nice essay. There are so many half-baked ideas floating around on note cards, paper scraps, torn-out articles and journal entries, that choosing where to begin is more relevant than finishing something.
I, too, hate waste, so I wonder what will become of the detritus of my fleeting fancies?
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Thanks, Eilene! Ah yes. Good point about choosing where to begin. I have similar scraps of paper and half-filled notebooks . . . if I were to have to choose all of the ideas I’ve written down, well, it might take awhile to just try to decipher reading through them! I limited it to things that I had begun in the past year. I read a writer not too long ago–it may have been Ann Patchett in *This is the Story of a Happy Marriage* but I could be wrong–who envisioned ideas and writing that weren’t actually later used as “compost.” I kind of like that idea . . . perhaps all the writing we do won’t turn into something, but maybe it will give nutrients to things that will later grow out of it? Food for thought! 😉 Thanks for your comment!
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