I keep realizing, forgetting, and re-realizing that the first step to any writing project is forcing yourself to start.
I love writing, but even after more than a decade of doing it for both work and fun, I still have to drag myself to the page or screen & force my hands to move at first. I’m not sure why – maybe because writing is an industrious hobby and I default to leisure when left otherwise unemployed. Maybe because the acts of creation and production so impress me that to begin either of them myself on any scale feels, for a moment at least, like a grand undertaking, the beginning of a long journey. Maybe because my perfectionist outlook tends toward the nitpicky at times, and so commencing a thing grates a bit when there is always so much more that I could do to prepare first.
