What I Learned from 365 Days of Writing
by Sean Lieberman
I’ve written every day for the past year, without fail. Not as an arbitrary challenge or as a conversation starter at parties, but to become a better writer. To establish a habit that is so ingrained in my being, that to not do it would feel unnatural, wrong.
The Habit
The most important part of establishing a habit is repetition. After all, it’s not a habit if you’re not consistent about it. If you only do something once a week, it might never cement itself in your brain and muscle memory. It’s got to be a routine, like brushing your teeth, taking a shower, or yelling at your coffee machine to work faster.
It didn’t matter if I was tired, away on vacation, or hungover in a tent.
I wrote.
My preference is to write first thing in the morning. I write at other times too, but this is the one I don’t miss (I even coach other people on it). I gladly sacrifice 45–60 minutes of time I would have otherwise been sleeping. It’s time I carve out for myself that I know won’t be interrupted.
I also try to make it easy on myself. When I walk into the living room in the morning, the computer is waiting for me, the tea kettle is full, and all I need to do is press a button and sit down to write. Preparing these small things the night before can make a big difference. Remove any small obstacles that might make you consider doing another task first. Don’t check your email. Don’t look at your snapchats. Don’t start your workday. Not yet. This comes first.
The Content
The other secret to a good habit is momentum. To this end, I start off each morning by writing about whatever bizarre dream I was just having. I don’t especially care about recording these for posterity. Yes, it’s interesting that I dreamt about Luke Skywalker straight up murdering a tattooed villain by force-lightning him in a bear hug, but that’s not the point. The point is to get your fingers moving. Once you’re typing (or writing), it’s easier to keep going. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion. The same is true of your mind.
“I’m writing. This feels good, let’s keep going.”
Here, have some numbers:
550 — my average word count each morning
3 — tv shows
1 — short film
1 — play
12 — features (one of which is a public domain book adaptation)
I bounce back and forth between these each morning. Brainstorming characters, stringing together storylines, creating worlds, and exploring all the different paths an idea could take (which is freewriting, essentially).
I am not wont for ideas. I have 10x this many that I jot down and disregard. Learning what to discard has been a skill in itself. Maybe it’s more of a skit, cartoon strip or joke, than an idea worthy of a tv show or feature film. Perhaps it is derivative, boring, not something I would write (a genre I’m not interested in, probably), or it’s good but my other ideas are better. The point is that you need to develop this discerning skill, otherwise you’re going to be spending a lot of time developing something that will frustrate you the entire time until it ultimately disappoints you in the end.
Of the 17 different ideas above, this is how I currently divide my time:
- 80% brainstorming — characters, plot, world, story, dialogue
- 10% pages — actual script pages
- 10% process — figuring out how to approach a topic
And that’s why I have 17 different concepts competing for my time. It’s useful to see where I’ve been, but let’s look at…
The Future
Over the past year, I’ve accumulated a massive amount of ideas, characters, and potentials for worlds I’d like to write. But I’ve come to realize that while creating worlds is satisfying, I need to expand them. I’ve placed a moratorium on new ideas. Nothing can be added to the pile of 17 until I’ve “finished” at least 5 of them. As Chuck Wendig would say, I’ve got to Finish. My. Shit.
I recognize that many of those 5 will be terrible. That’s the point. I can’t get better at the whole screenwriting thing until I’ve repeated the process again and again and again.
Idea → Brainstorm -> Outline -> First Draft → X Draft → Done.
Until I do that 5, 10, 15 times, I’m not going to markedly improve. Everyone wants to hit a homerun their first at bat, but it’s not going to happen. Embrace the suckage. It’s the only way to get better.
Now, a more productive breakdown of my time would be:
- 30% brainstorming — expanding my various universes
- 30% pages — actual script pages (out of order is fine. remember, it’s about muscle memory and trial/error)
- 40% process/prep —outlines, white boarding, timelines, etc.
But without spending the last year doing it the other way, I never would have discovered this. Trial and error. Nobody said finding the process that works for you was going to be easy.
These last 365 days have shown me a lot about myself. That I love writing more than I love sleep (gasp!). That I can establish a new habit that at first felt daunting. That I have at least some talent for world building. That I have too many ideas and need to focus on seeing them through, one at a time. That practice doesn’t make perfect, but it makes you better. And who wouldn’t choose better over the alternative?
Originally published at www.mindtheink.com on July 26, 2015.
