The Getaway Car (Ann Patchett’s, Not Taylor Swift’s!)
New notebook.
Fear.
Scribbled sentences.
John Truby’s Anatomy of a Story.
Excitement.
Fresh flowers.
A new Scrivener document.
A cup of tea.
An urgent desire to look up random and irrelevant things on the internet.
An entire unknown story waiting to be found.
In case you haven’t guessed, I’m sitting down to write a brand new book. And those ten things are the companions I have to hand every time I face this part of the process. The flowers and the tea are self-explanatory; comfort and beauty. I hope the former will help keep the fear at bay and the latter will help with inspiration.
I begin a new book with so little. I pitched this idea to my agent and publishers in two paragraphs, so all I have are those two paragraphs, plus a few random, scribbled sentences. My head has been lost in the edit of my 2025 book and I haven’t been able to let my imagination loose on this new book yet. I don’t even know where to start—but I never do!
I’m a Beginner All Over Again
It’s the one thing you learn very quickly as a writer: that with each new book, you become a beginner all over again. Because you only know how to write the books you’ve already written; you don’t know how to write this particular book. And doubt and fear and overwhelm are all right there trying to stop you from starting, to distract you, or to get in the way of your imagination.
But there’s also lots of excitement. I loved this idea when I pitched it to my publishers and desperately hoped they’d prefer it out of the six ideas I sent them. And they did, so now it’s up to me to bring it to life. And I think that’s what I’m most afraid of—that the shimmering, gorgeous book I can see in that two paragraph pitch is a mirage that my writing ability will never be able to make real.
Forgiveness Rather Than Safety
I’ve referenced Ann Patchett’s essay, The Getaway Car, before. It perfectly captures the state a writer finds themselves in just before they sit down to write a new book: