Among the many bits of advice my father gave me when I was very young was how to begin drinking a bowl of hot soup. Big whoop, I can hear you say. How is that anything to do with writing? Well, the advice was all about logic. And it worked. (It was to start at the outside, where it was cooler, and work my way in. Natch.) Being a nitwit, I often forgot that and plunged straight in… and got burned.
Still, it did teach me that throughout life there are different ways to approach a task. True, it might lead you into making occasional mistakes, but you have to start somewhere. And sitting there blowing on hot soup will only get you cold soup. It won’t feed your hunger.
In the same way, as a writer, you have to have a beginning to your story, along with a middle and an end. And the unspoken agreement we have with readers is, when they open a book they’ll find the beginning very conveniently placed near the front… after what is called the front matter. (That’s the gobbledygook detail about the publisher, the book number and all the other good stuff which hardly anybody reads because they want to get to the better stuff - the story).