There’s a moment—right before you begin—that’s full of electricity. Maybe you’ve been carrying a story around for years, or maybe it just arrived, sudden and insistent, refusing to wait. Either way, you’re standing at the threshold of something bold and beautiful: the beginning of your book.
As an editor who works with first-time and self-published authors, I’ve walked beside many writers at this stage. And if I could sit across from you with a cup of something warm and reassuring, this is what I’d tell you before you type that first sentence:
Your early pages don’t need to be polished. They don’t even need to be good. Beginnings are about exploration. You’re getting to know your characters, your world, and your voice. Let the mess happen—it’s where the real magic starts.
Some writers chart every twist before they start. Others discover the story as they go. There’s no gold star for doing it “right.” If your process works for you—even if it’s unconventional or chaotic—that’s enough.
Comparison is a sneaky thief. You’re not behind. You’re not too old or too young. Your timeline is valid, your pace is perfect, and your voice matters right now. The fact that you’re starting is something to be proud of.
Yes, inspiration can strike like lightning—but more often, writing is about gently returning to the page even when it feels hard. Show up. Write badly. Write slowly. Just keep writing.
If you write, you’re a writer. Period. There’s no secret handshake. No gate to pass through. You don’t need a book deal, a fanbase, or a desk by a window with the perfect light. If you’re telling a story, you belong here.
You’re going to want to go back and “fix” things before you’ve finished your draft. Resist that urge. The first draft is just you telling yourself the story. Let it be clunky and inconsistent and wild. There’s time to refine later.
Even if it’s been “done before.” Even if it feels too weird or too soft or too niche. There’s someone out there who needs this exact version of this exact story—and only you can tell it that way.
Reading widely is one of the best things you can do for your craft. Just be careful not to turn admiration into self-doubt. Learn from the writers you love, but don’t let their brilliance dim your own.
You don’t have to share your draft before you’re ready. In fact, holding it close for a while can be good. Let it grow. When the time comes to invite feedback, choose someone who honors your voice and your vision. (And if you’re ever looking for a thoughtful, kind editor—I know one.)
At some point, your story might turn on you. You might feel like it’s all falling apart. Keep going anyway. Those moments are normal. They don’t mean you’re failing—they mean you’re in it. And that’s where books are born.
It’s vulnerable. It’s a little wild. It’s also deeply generous. You’re creating something that didn’t exist before. That’s not small. That’s powerful.
So here’s my advice, boiled down: trust your instincts, give yourself grace, and write like no one’s watching—because for now, no one is. This is your story. Let it unfold.
I’m cheering you on already.
Warmly,
Nina
Editor & Fairy Godreader at Once Upon a Manuscript
Helping storytellers shape the books they were meant to write.