(The beginning of this post was inspired by my instagram post over the weekend. If you read that, there’s a lot more here.)

Don’t worry, this isn’t a post about the game Wordle. Yes, I am obsessed, but no, that’s not the type of puzzle I’m talking about.

When you first start a project, it can feel almost impossible.

Where do I start?
What if I go in the wrong direction?
WHAT IF I FAIL?

But you dive in, and eventually you start to figure it out. You find a rhythm, a pattern, a proverbial carrot to keep you going. The closer you get to finishing, the easier it gets—and the faster you work through it. Until suddenly you’re done and can’t remember all the painful steps at the beginning.

We started the puzzle in the header image on New Year’s Day and slowly pieced together the first two thirds. Saturday we finished the last third. (These pics were taken as I sat down.)

There were days when I could only match a few pieces and I started to worry that this thing would live on our kitchen island for the rest of our lives. That we’d never again be able to have more than one person over for dinner because our only eating surface was now dedicated to the puzzle from hell.

But I began to figure out the patterns of how the pieces came together.

As I slowly linked different sections together, it felt less daunting.

When I woke up Saturday morning, the end seemed near. When I sat down “for a few minutes,” I realized I could finish it that day. (Four hours later—whoops!)

What does this have to do with writing? YOU JUST WAIT! I am a master at comparing non-writing things to writing. (See Deconstructing a Cookie and How Editing is Like Painting a Merry-Go-Round.)

The momentum I felt at the end of the puzzle is the same thing that happens when I get to the end of a manuscript. In the months I’m writing the first draft, it can be a struggle to reach my daily word goals, but when I’m in the final chapters, it’s not uncommon for me to double or triple those goals. The words just fly out of me!

(This is probably because I always know how a book ends before I start writing it, so those last few chapters are finally tying everything into a nice bow.)

But the beginnings are scary. After opening the box (getting an idea), dumping out the pieces (taking haphazard notes), and flipping them all print-side up (writing an outline), choosing the spot to begin (writing the first line—only the most important in a manuscript) can freeze up even the most experienced puzzler (writer).

My strategy is to find all the edges and put those together first (write the first draft without editing). That gives the puzzle structure (bones of the story) and shows where the gaps are that need to be filled (I think this one is self-explanatory). There will be moments when you want to shove a piece into a spot where it doesn’t actually fit (info dump), but you need to be patient and keep working at it until the picture on the table (words on the screen) match the image on the box (the idea in your head).

The best part? Most of the times the finished product is so much better—and bigger—than that 8×10 picture on the box (your original shiny idea).

You just have to keep at it.

I recently posted a video about staying focused despite my shiny ideas. I hope you like it!

What do you think of this analogy? Did I go too far outside the box, or did it fit perfectly?