Live To Write Another Day

though, the truth is I really do love writing. I love it because it helps me make sense of a world that very often makes no sense at all; because it gives me a structure in which to express myself, to create order out of chaos, to be the master of the universe, even if it is a make-believe universe. Most importantly, I love writing because I love the creative process, the journey that you go on when you conceive of an idea and, like Odysseus, feel compelled to find the path through every obstacle, every trial and tribulation, in an effort to realize that idea’s full potential and bring it safely home.
If you’re like me and you have the writer gene, then I’m sure you’re in the midst of your own writing odyssey. And, like me, you could probably use a little help every now and then, a little reassurance that you’re not alone out there, blowing aimlessly in the middle of the Mediterranean. That’s what this survival guide is all about. It’s my way of helping you—my writer brethren—navigate those often unpredictable, sometimes murky waters, in any small way I can.
I’ve been a professional writer since the time I graduated from college, which is about twenty-five years now. In that time I’ve written advertising copy, stage plays, screenplays, teleplays, website content, and all different kinds of interactive games and theme-park experiences. It’s been an eclectic career to be sure, but each of these creative challenges has, in its own unique way, taught me very valuable lessons and invariably contributed to my overall growth, both as a person and as an artist. I don’t profess to know everything or have the end-all-be-all, sure-fire secret to being a great writer. Let’s be real, no one does. What I do know is there are aspects of my creative process and my psychological approach to the craft of writing that are very effective and could potentially work for you as well.
So whether you’re a high school kid with big dreams, a person who’s spent half your life in another career neglecting your writer gene, or even a seasoned vet who just needs a little pep talk, it’s my sincerest hope that there’s a word or two in this little tome that will help you weather every storm, sail past every siren, and slay every monster as you tell that great story that simply must be told.

SURVIVAL GUIDE SUMMARY
1. The Writer Gene
Things to Remember:
•If you’re a person who is driven to tell stories with words, then you have the writer gene.
•Guess what—you’re not alone.


2. The Art of Procrastination
I think it’s only fitting to begin a discussion of the creative process with a little procrastination. As you might have already guessed from the title of this chapter, I think procrastination gets a bad rap. Why? Because I wholeheartedly believe that procrastination is part of the creative process. There. I said it. You happy? I hope so, because I’m not just trying to be cute. I mean it.
Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, we should probably give procrastination a more positive name, don’t you think? How about Pre-writing? Braincharging? Mindframing? Sound better? I think so. But let’s not kid ourselves either. Regardless of what you call it, it still basically boils down to the same thing—delaying the inevitable reality that at some point you have to get on with it, just dive into the deep end of the pool and start paddling. Which is bad, right? Delaying. Avoiding. Not doing what you’re supposed to be doing. Worst of all, wasting time. Right?
You see what I’m doing here? I can’t psychologically reconcile the fact that for every minute of my life I’m not writing, I feel terribly guilty, like I’m not getting a damn thing done. “Come on people, we’re burning daylight!” the drill sergeant in my head says. “But I can’t just start typing,” I plead. “I’m not ready!”
My point here is this:
Procrastinating is only bad if you create anxiety around the fact that you’re procrastinating.
Okay, let’s say you can get past the guilt. You no longer feel bad about the time you’re spending rearranging the furniture or trying to peel the perfect cucumber. How the hell is that part of the process? The answer is that creative writing requires a very unique type of focus where you are at once a passive and active channel of information. You are both passively listening to the ideas coming into your head at a million miles per second and actively talking as you compose the words. But believe it or not, when you’re procrastinating you’re actually starting to engage in this process, because you’re already thinking about the story that you’re telling, even if it’s only subconsciously.
Procrastination comes in as many varieties as there are writers. Some people watch YouTube videos. Some people clean the house. Some people go for a walk. Me, I’m a football junkie, so I like to read all the latest and greatest happenings of the National Football League before I put pen to paper (even in the off-season). Any and all forms are acceptable as far as I’m concerned. Procrastination is an equal opportunity employer.
Not that chronic procrastination, to the point where you don’t ever actually write anything, is okay. That’s obviously not what I’m talking about. There’s a point at which that kind of thing begins to call into question whether you actually possess the writer gene in the first place. What I am saying is that procrastinating is pretty much the universal starting point of the writing process, a way of getting yourself into the alpha state, as the scientists would say. So whatever it is that you have to do to get yourself there, don’t beat yourself up about it. Just accept it, embrace it, and know that your fellow writers all over the world, from amateurs to Pulitzer Prize winners, are at the very same moment doing exactly the same thing.


SURVIVAL GUIDE