My writing style is that of an editor—that is, I write using a process of self-editing, developed during my days as a features journalist. I pull all my notes and ideas onto the page, and I arrange them in some reasonable preliminary order. Then I begin stirring the pot.

In fiction terms, the process is equivalent to plantsing: plotting as I pour the data and interview quotes into the pot, then pantsing as I stir and stir and stir some more, tasting and trying and adding more ingredients until the story slowly bubbles to the surface.

It’s a valid approach to shaping and developing a story, but all that sampling and tweaking becomes malignant when it hangs on too long. Obsessive polishing of a first chapter—a tweak to this dialogue here, a new opening line there—notoriously sucks innocent writers into a vortex of indecision and inaction.

Join me in exploring how to let go of Chapter One and move on, as we practice The Writes of Fiction.