That dreaded first chapter is the bain of my existence. I’m sure I’m not the only one that has this problem either (well, I hope I’m not alone in my misery, loneliness and despair and cruel adversaries afterall).
It’s always like an over-done crust on an otherwise palatable loaf. Every book I write I am met with these dreaded first pages. I try to keep them short, just so I can move on to more friendly climes, but still they haunt me like Marley’s ghost.
I’m not just talking about the infamous blank page here either, in fact I am referring to an issue that is the complete opposite of this. The scurge of over-editing. I always end up reworking this blooming chapter so many times that it ends up resembling all the editing finese of a toddler with an eraser.
As always, I will get it right, but its the thing of nightmares.