The word counts are creeping up. Creeping, not blazing a trail  through the white space, but plodding, slowly, as if they are weighed  down. This isn’t writer’s block. This isn’t lack of enthusiasm.
It’s starting a new book. As my favorite warrior philosopher, Lao Tzu, said:
A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
Now what’s funny, I needed to look this quote up, because I’m still  suffering from tour brain, AKA book release malaise, and I couldn’t get  it right in my head – I kept saying a thousand steps, not miles, and  knew that wasn’t right. When I looked up the quote, I saw a caveat I’d  never noticed before.
Although this is the popular form of this quotation, a more correct  translation from the original Chinese would be "The journey of a  thousand miles begins beneath one's feet." Rather than emphasizing the  first step, Lau Tzu regarded action as something that arises naturally  from stillness.
“…Something that arises naturally from stillness.”
Isn’t that the perfect allegory for the beginning of a new book?  Heck, any new venture, creative or otherwise, starts from that moment of  stillness. If you want to get all weighty, we can get into the chicken  or the egg argument. This is a cause and effect concept in a writer’s  life… At what moment have you set out on your journey of a thousand  steps?
Now that I’m a bit more self-aware as a writer, these thoughts enter  my consciousness often. What is the exact moment when I have an idea, a  spark, that will grow into a story, and thus into a book? And at what  point does the beginning really begin? At what point do you shatter the  stillness and take the first step? Is it a mental journey first, or  purely physical?
To be honest, the writer’s entire journey is fraught with peril, but  the most dangerous moment is writing those opening few pages, when  you’ve got an idea, one that you think you can sustain for another 399,  characters who are living, breathing entities in your head, plot points  that race toward the page like a wave through your mind, notebooks  filling with chicken scratch, character names, dates, places, ideas. And  you have those moments of sheer fright, when you realize you can't  remember how to start a book.
So can you say you’ve started writing a book when the idea is formed,  or must you wait until those first few words go down on the page?
“Try not. Do.” ~ Master Yoda
There is an offshoot of Hinduism and Buddhism known as Taoism. I  fancied myself a Taoist back in college. I was very into the  philosophical then, a full-circle I’m enjoying now. And while I studied  the Tao-te Ching, the Taoist handbook, if you will, I didn’t truly  understand the words. How could any nineteen-year-old who hadn’t  experienced suffering understand? Truly, in order to appreciate what you  have, you must have experienced the loss of what you desire. That  tenant has its roots all over the canon – it’s better to climb the  mountain than start at the top, etc. – because it’s the truth. You  always appreciate something you work for more than something you’re  simply handed, and suffering, at all levels, makes us who we are.
Now, though I’m hardly a scholar, more an enthusiast, I am  experiencing bits of enlightenment, especially when it comes to  appreciating life and the creative process.
They say the more you talk about Taoism, the less you know. I reveled  in that phrase when I was nineteen, feeling so mysterious and noble.  It’s true, though. One poem in the Tao-te Ching describes the Tao like  this:
The Tao is like a bellows: 
 it is empty yet infinitely capable.
 The more you use it, the more it produces; 
 The more you talk of it, the less you understand.
The Tao, to me, is writing. It is looking into that empty space in  the bellows—the empty, yet infinitely capable space—and seeing the  sparkly mist of words that will build the house that will shelter your  story.
All difficult things have their origin in that which is easy, and great things in that which is small. ~ Lao Tzu
For once, I can pinpoint the exact moment the bellows filled with air  and this new book began. It was January 27, 2011, at about 9:45 AM  central time. I was on a marketing call with my agent and editor. We  came out of it with an idea, one that morphed into an emailed paragraph  by 10:09 AM, and another call with a full-fledged endorsement from said  agent and a hearty “write the proposal” by 10:20. I found a title and  perfect epigraph, wrote the proposal, which was submitted February 8th, which the agent loved, sent it to my editor, who helped tighten a few points down, and it was thus accepted the 18th.  We changed the title to the what I know is the final one on February 24th, I turned in the Art Fact Sheet March 10th, and by the end of the day March 14th, I had 1602 words.
Boom goes the dynamite.
It took 45 days from concept to words. And when I say concept, I mean  it—when the phone rang on January 27, I had no idea what this story  was. None.
I look at those 45 days with some chagrin and teeth gnashing, because  I wanted to get started sooner, but had to do all the promotion and  touring for the release of So Close, copyedits and AAs for WHERE ALL THE  DEAD LIE, write a short story, and continue plotting world domination.  There was work being done on the new book though. Research being  collected, books being read, thoughts coalescing, Scrivener files  filling up with light bulbs.
Ambition has one heel nailed in well, though she stretch her fingers to touch the heavens. ~ Lao Tzu
In other words, the journey has begun.
But I’m feeling rather Taoist about the content of this book. I’m  just not ready to talk about it. A few people know what I’m about right  now, but I want to wait to get into the gritty.
A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving. ~ Lao Tzu
I want to be a good traveler with this  book. I’m feeling very protective of it. There are good reasons for  that, reasons time will reveal. But for now, I want to enjoy my secrets.
For my fellow writers – when do you feel the journey begins? 
For my fellow readers – which came first – the chicken or the egg?
 
And for all – what’s your favorite philosophical quote?