Every day at VFS is an epiphany. I'm not even kidding. It's kind of ridiculous.
Just when I think I've jotted down that last great tip, morsel of wisdom or industry insight from one of my teachers -
boom! - they fire off another one, just to prove they can. I don`t think the big blue binder can take much more.
Don`t get me wrong, I love every minute of it. I`ve dreamed of this for years and I pinch myself a couple of times a day. But Moses never found revelation so exhausting.
Oy. I'm going to need a sleep therapist to realign my biorhythms after the last six harrowing weeks of editorial all-nighters and beer-soaked pitch preps.
But that's another story.
So what are some of these big flashing lightbulbs?
1. I can't be a good writer in isolation, no matter how isolated my life as a writer may be.
To become worthy of other people's attention or commercial successful, my writing needs the spit and polish of other people's perspectives and feedback, insights and questions, criticisms and encouragements, emotionally-satisfied smiles and incredulous, raised eyebrows.
At VFS, this input wears various faces: class discussion, pitching, workshopping, group exercises, teacher's comments, and informal conversation. It's constant, unrelenting, and indispensable. In a very real sense, our tuition includes the cost of
each other. I learn as much from the students around me as I do from my teachers.
Had I stayed writing in my basement in Alberta, my work would be (and I'm approximating here) 10% as good as it is now. I wouldn't be enjoying an environment that constantly sparks new and better story ideas, and my ego would be in disproportion to my ability. As far as I'm concerned, the shoulder rubbing and spit-balling we do every day is worth whatever it took to get here.
2. For the love of God, don't become an auteur.
Have a vision. Have a good idea. Have a
really, really good idea. Have a
lot of really, really good ideas! Write compelling, juicy, commercially-strong stuff. But categorically refuse to become "special" - i.e. an arrogant, unapproachable, defensive dick nobody wants to work with, no matter how awesome you are. It's vocational suicide, as well as being really, really annoying.
3. Leave your ego at the door.
It's going to get checked, balanced, smashed, dissected, analyzed, stripped naked, pointed to and laughed at, crucified, resurrected, then laughed at again. Okay, not really, but it may
feel that way sometimes. All depends on how big it was when we got here. (I'm talking about your ego, Jeff, settle down.) This is about
becoming a better writer, not about satisfying a subconscious need to be thought of as clever and witty. Let`s be honest, it takes a healthy ego to dare to write in the first place. But don`t let it turn into a tumor.
4. Embrace criticism and enjoy the ride.
As it turns out, having other people scrutinize our ideas and values isn't nearly as painful or nerve-wracking as we thought it would be. (Unless you're talking about Kelsey Kirvan's pitch class, in which case I retract my previous statement.) Once you realize that workshops, mentoring sessions, and class feedback exist to make your writing stronger, crisper and more marketable (and I have yet to be the recipient of any of these where my writing
didn't improve), you`re off to the races. I'm already at the point where I look forward to having my ideas ripped apart and my bright ideas challenged, because I know that
I and
my stories will be the better for it.
5. Love the baby, love the baby, love the baby . . .Kill the baby!
It sounds worse than it is. Just means that while it's vital to be passionate about our ideas and committed to a story`s vision (how else could we keep plugging away day after day?), we also need to be able to admit when an idea or element just isn't working and be prepared to abandon it as unemotionally as possible, moving in whatever other direction makes more sense.
6. Let the freedom-loving artist in you shake hands with the savvy businessperson in you.
Sure writing is a highly individual art, but it's also a
career and a
business where we tend to work with other people. Therefore a few questions are in order: Am I going to marry every detail of my vision or story, unwilling to negotiate one jot or tittle with studios or co-writers? Will I only write or work on material originated by moi? Will I only agree to projects over which I have complete creative control (and by the way, good luck with that)? Can I work with others who may have totally different, sometimes incompatible visions? Can I stomach watching someone else take my work and twist it into something else completely?
Each of us will have to draw these lines for him- or herself, and invariably each time an idea or opportunity emerges. Whatever the outcome, it's important to recognize and make peace with the fact that writing, like any other job or endeavor, will inevitably ask us to make some compromises.
7. Write everything down and constantly find better ways to get stuff done.
I keep a small stationary store with me at all times. I know I look like a dork always writing shit down on sticky notes and pasting them all over my binder, but I`m sorry, I just have to. I`m not smart enough to remember all the great stuff we get hurled at us throughout the day. Besides, I paid a butt-load of money for these pearls and I'll be damned if I'm going to let them slip away just because I didn't feel like investing in a good clipboard.
Plus it helps me constantly refine the various processes involved in writing (plot outlines, character profiles, dialogue development, pitches, log lines) so I'm not reinventing the wheel every time we get an assignment. I know I sound like a big nerd, but guess what? That's how you get good, bitches! (My guess is, that's also how you get
rich. Bazinga!)
To all you aspiring writers out there, if you haven't heard of WD magazine or their annual competition, check it out online here. They also have several other major writing competitions throughout the year, as well as a heap of writing resources (such as the annual and indispensable Writer's Market family of directories).