Sometimes it just takes a while to figure out the right door into a scene. I might know what has to happen in the scene, I might even have some of the snippets of dialogue echoing in my brain, but they all have to wait until I figure out the door—whose eyes I’m writing through and where those eyes are focused on the exact moment of entry.

Some writers will tell you they just begin somewhere; I like to be economical. Most of the time my first-draft beginnings end up being the final draft beginnings. Everything else might change but where I begin is usually not one of them.

It’s a little like I’m camped out at Let’s Make a Deal, my fuzzy orange clown hair itching my scalp under the hot lights, waiting for Monty to propose something. Door #1? The beautifully wrapped box that the lovely Carol Merrill is highlighting with those perfectly groomed hands?

Maybe Monty doesn’t choose me at all and instead after several hours I end up shuffling out the back doors into a deserted alley. I take off my wig and the crazy red polka-dot bow tie, and it’s only when I open the dumpster to toss them that I envision the delicate ear of my heroine shoved tightly against her mother’s door and claim the jackpot behind Door #3.

This post was originally written November 3, 2006 for the private blog of my writing group, Novel-ties.