It’s harvest time here in the Midwest. Farmers are busy cutting beans and corn. The days are getting shorter. Leaves are starting to have some color. The nights are loud with the sounds of insects busy getting ready for the winter. This is a time for gathering.I know we’re tempted to think of autumn as a death of sorts and winter the long grieving period before the rebirth of spring, but these days, nearing my 60th birthday, I’m concentrating on collecting and celebrating and looking forward to the lovely days ahead. I’m thinking of autumn, not as an end, but a new beginning. I’m thinking of winter as a time of renewal.
It’s easy to give winter a bad rap—all those days of short light, all that cold, all that ice and snow—but I’ve always found that the winter season gives our lives a certain degree of urgency. We hunch our shoulders and bend our necks against the wind. We make our movements crisp and efficient. We don’t lollygag. Free from the distraction of warm days and long light, we live our lives with purpose. After many winters of discontent, I proclaim this coming winter the winter of living life to its fullest.
Similarly, I want to embrace my writing with vigor and hope. I invite you to do the same. Do you have a piece of fiction or nonfiction that you’re not quite happy with? Here’s something you can try. Tell yourself the piece has to open in a different place. Find that place in your draft and use it as your first step onto the page. This doesn’t mean you have to completely lose the current opening. It may be something you can use further on in the piece. Often our openings are flat because we’re stumbling as we try to get our feet. Once we hit our stride, we write with more confidence and style. So find something from your draft that could be a new beginning and see what happens.
You may find the piece opening with more forward momentum. You may also find it opening with a stronger, more distinct voice. Perhaps, this new beginning also sets the stakes for the main character in a piece of fiction, or for you as the narrator of a piece of nonfiction. Maybe you’ll find yourself writing with more urgency. This often happens when we cut off a flabby opening, and begin anew. We find ourselves moving forward into the future with more confidence.
Autumn gives way to winter, youth gives way to age, drafts and people evolve. Don’t give up on yourself or a piece of writing. Look for a new beginning. Let it remind you of all that matters. Go forward with self-belief and hope.
Lee, Thank you for another wise post. It is inspiring to think that Instead of dismissing old pieces that didn’t work, we may find a new way in. There was a reason we wrote them in the first place, something that tugged. For me, a piece came immediately to mind about my childhood best friend, now long dead. When I write about her, I seem to weigh her down with baggage of my own family. There may be another way.
You’re so right, Susan. There was something that called us to the page, and sometimes a different entry point can open up the material in a good way. Thanks for your comment!
Encouragement I needed, Lee, as I dread the coming cold weather. Thank you!
Winter is always a challenge for me, too, Cyndi, but it really can be the season of deeper work when it comes to writing. Thanks for your comment!
I like the idea of finding a new point of entry into a piece of writing. Maybe the reader will be more engaged if they enter your story through a different door than the one you originally opened. Thanks for the advice.
Thanks for the comment, Bill. As I said today, it’s interesting to see what can happen when we provide a different entry point for a piece of writing.
Lee, i enjoy reading your posts very much. As a “michigander” i usually dread winter even as i appreciate its beauty. I will try to fill the inside hours with improving my draft!
Thank you, Ellen! It strikes me that winter is the perfect season for writing. Thanks so much for reading my blog and for taking the time to leave a comment.