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December 31, 2012

My Resolutions for 2013

Computer, coffee, conscience - all systems go. Let's begin:

1. Meditate, reflect and relax my spirit for at least 20 minutes each morning and evening. Sprinkle the resulting good karma liberally at work and play. 

2. Appreciate, support and make love to my wife every day. (Proceed immediately to #6 to find the strength.)

3. Unless absolutely unavoidable, get to bed by or before 10pm. Every. Single. Night.

4. Consult a doctor re: my overall health. Comprehensive check, blood work, the works. Ask re: any questionable aches, pains, warning signs before they become a pain in the ass. Literally.

5. Consult a nutritionist about the diet that will achieve optimum health. (Something's got to be at the root of all this flatulence.)

6. Follow a regular, daily exercise plan that is simple, doable, and enjoyable. (Yoga, stretches, weights, red wine - whatever's required to strengthen my core, tone my muscles, and maintain my general sexiness.)

7. Brush and floss regularly. (As my grandad always used to say, keep the teeth God gave you.)

8. Map out a plan to reduce and eliminate debt. Take steps post-haste. Dream of winning the lottery, but remember, it's just a dream.

9. Consult a financial advisor re: preparations for retirement. (The last 20 years went by in a flash; I don't expect the next 20 to get any slower.)

10. Put aside money for fun (travel, entertainment, a better hairdresser, etc.).

11. Religiously avoid diverting money put aside for #10-12 to peppermint mochas, no matter how much you miss those little candy cane sprinkles.

12. Parent my kids with maximum intentionality, listening to their hearts, goals, fears and concerns, holding them accountable, helping them build plans for their future, and refusing to stop loving them. (They're teenagers, so yes, I have to remind myself on that last one.)

13. Writing-wise, maintain and finalize current projects, while (a) completing 1-3 scripts, (b) making progress on 1 book, and (c) blogging regularly. All other activity (including reading, PS3-ing, and internet "research") is secondary.

14. Continue to build and rigorously maintain solid, productive relationships with industry people who can move my writing and film career forward. (All work and no shmoozing makes Paul a dull boy. And a virtual unknown.)

15. Track all writing competitions and opportunities, and (sound of whip cracking) "submit, mule, submit!" 

I can do this!  Now where's my yoga mat?

December 17, 2012

Write Now #2: Embrace the Business Side of Writing

Here's a story we've all heard before.

As a rule, we writers spend as much time as possible drinking coffee, pondering the human experience, and desperately trying to funnel the end product into a story idea or two. In the process, we sometimes forget to eat, sleep, pay our bills, or wear pants, to the occasional amusement (and semi-regular hand-wringing) of those with whom we share beds and/or bathroom space.

But, we remind them, there is good reason for all of this: we are artists, with bigger fish to fry than what these admittedly non-literary types refer to as “the responsibilities of real life”. What about the responsibilities of a writer seeking to radically reshape the thinking of an entire generation via the printed page? I mean, just who do they think they are, anyway? Sure, they look at us funny when we say this and drop silly, empty threats like, “I’m going to leave you if you don’t start bathing.” But that’s because they just don’t get it.

Or so the Bohemian dream goes.  A dream inherited from beloved (and notably neurotic, single, alcoholic and/or suicidal) hero-artists like Ernest Hemmingway, Hunter S. Thompson, Jackson Pollock, and Mozart. (Throw in Nick Cage’s fictionalized version of Charlie Kauffman in Adaptation, just to comfort the screenwriters among us.)  Creativity comes from chaos, we reassure ourselves. Ergo, the more chaotic the artist, the more brilliant the art. Right?

Maybe. Or maybe not at all.

It is true that these mad geniuses produced some truly innovative and brilliant works of literature, art and music that changed the world. And I don’t doubt that the ghosts and demons haunting their mental hallways played a role in the creative process, as is true for all artists. But please forgive my reluctance at using their various cognitive, emotional and social disorders as some kind of artistic blueprint to follow on my own writer’s journey. Call me Mr. Buzz-Kill, but I believe the true source of good writing is far less tragic, infused with much less magic, and fundamentally mundane: it is the result of organized, disciplined, hard work.

It's also a ton of fun, of course. When a great idea strikes, it’s like getting hit with a tidal wave and solar flare at the same time, but in a good way.  You’re at the mall, on a bus, or reading the morning paper, and suddenly a premise or a character pops out of nowhere. Weeks of writer’s block come crumbling down in an instant, you grab and pen and piece of paper and within minutes, have the spine of your next novel or screenplay. You phone a confidante and spill your guts, not caring if they love it or not because you love it, and that’s all the matters. And when other people read it or see it, they’re going to love it, too. Your story is going to change lives. That’s the fun part. It’s why we write!

Then comes the hard part: actually writing the story. That’s where the “hard work” comes in. And any way you slice it, this is the stage where the artist in you has to shake hands with the business person in you.
That’s right, I called you a business person. Sue me. For some of us artist types, the moniker induces a kind of Pavlovian nausea, conjuring up images of blood-sucking multinationals, sharks in suits and personal heroes-turned-sellouts. I mean, what have sacred artists to do with the profane world of business? “Business” is what artists satirize, lambast, and decry. It isn’t what artists do.

If that’s you, put down the brush (or the pencil or the guitar or the laptop), find a mirror, curl your hand comfortably into a fist, and knock your skull three times while shouting, “Hellooo!” Repeat as required. The sooner you make peace with the fact that successful artists are good at managing the business side of their art, the better. Especially if you want to sell your work in the end. That`s right, I said “sell.” Get over it.

To clarify, I’m not just talking about being able to navigate the industry, deal with agents, and sign contracts. Important as all that is, I’m addressing something more fundamental. I’m talking about the deeply personal business of you getting your story written. I’d be dead and all my best ideas with me if I didn’t do this, which, in my experience, comes down to doing five basic things:

  1. Organizing myself: Listing and ranking my story ideas. Listing my writing goals and milestones. Establishing deadlines. Building a writing schedule. Keeping everything stored and filed for easy access.
  2. Disciplining myself. Getting honest about how personal habits and lifestyle areas are impacting my writing, and adjusting accordingly. Shutting out distractions. Turning off the TV or internet. Sticking to my schedule. Monitoring and managing my emotions. Keeping a running list of new story ideas, but always staying focused on my priority projects. Ditching the computer now and again for family or “me” time (work-life balance).
  3. Marketing myself. Until I sell that novel or screenplay, how else can I put my writing talents to use? Where can I network? What competitions, meetings or workshops are coming up? What writing groups can I join? Find out! Meanwhile, build a killer portfolio. Update my resume and customize it appropriately. Get business cards made. Build a website or blog.
  4. Educating and expanding myself. Read, study, view, rub shoulders with other writers to improve my writing skills. Stretch myself beyond the forms and genres I’m most comfortable with and consider any writing project. Above all, remember that the best learning comes from experience, so get outside, meet people, and keep my eyes and ears open.  But careful on this one because in the end, I’ve still got to. . .
  5. Write, Mule, Write! Organizing, disciplining, marketing and educating myself isn’t the work. Writing is. Those other things help create the process and environment that enable me to write with the greatest degree of freedom and potential for success. But they must never be allowed to become the work. With this in mind, no day shall pass without pen hitting paper.
Face it, if we want to succeed as writers, we’re going to have to figure out how to marry the art of our chosen profession with the business of it. In short, we’re going to have to do it like it’s our job. By the way, I’m not just talking about what it’s going to take to make a living as a writer. That would be great. No, I’m talking about getting anything written at all.

There’s one other benefit to treating writing like a business: it helps us zero in on stories people actually want to read or watch. I like the way John Truby puts it in his classic The Anatomy of Story:

“You should always writer first for yourself; write what you care about. But you shouldn’t write only for yourself. One of the biggest mistakes writers make is to fall into the trap of either-or thinking: either I write what I care about or I write what will sell. This a false distinction, born of the old romantic notion of writing in a garret and suffering for your art. . .Remember, you will have many more ideas in your life than you can possibly develop as full stories. Always try to write something that you care about and also think will appeal to an audience. Your writing should mean a lot to you personally. But writing for an audience makes it a lot easier to do what you love.”

What writer doesn’t want that?

December 3, 2012

Write Now #1: Find Stories Wherever You Are

"It's over," Rachel yells as she drops her fork loudly. "Why can't you get that?"

Embarrassed, Steven scans the restaurant then glares back at her in a weak attempt to preserve what little dignity he has left.

"Keep your voice down," he hisses back. "This isn't the time or place."

"It's never the time or place," she counters.

Steven rises abruptly.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he declares. "You'd better still be here when I get back."

He brushes the crumbs like bad karma from his shirt and storms off. Nine feet away and failing to mind my own business, I write down every word before tucking my note pad away and pouring two cups of coffee for table twelve.

I have no idea what their real names are or why they chose to break up on a beautiful Sunday morning at the restaurant where I work. But I'm sure glad they did. It's going to make a hell of a story.

Meanwhile, an 80-something couple sits side-by-side at a booth by the front door, oblivious to "Rachel" and "Steven" as they work their way through a crossword puzzle and flirt with all the playfulness of lovers one-quarter their age. Oh, life's crazy little juxtapositions. And another great story.

One might argue that I shouldn't stick my nose where it doesn't belong. To that I say, I'm a writer, a busybody by trade, ever in search of a good story and delighted to find one wherever I can. I don`t wish the aforementioned unhappy couple any ill will and I`ll certainly work hard to maintain their anonymity, but I'd be a fool to turn a blind eye to their misery since that's where real life happens. Real life that translates into great ideas, which in turn produce the inspiring and/or cautionary tales that guide eager readers and audiences on their own journeys.

Unless you're Paul Haggis or Nora Ephron, writing isn't a full-time gig. It's fleeting, piecemeal, by contract, part-time, and more often than not, a thankless work of passion. Which means most of us have to take whatever jobs we can waiting tables, installing home theatre systems, or hawking our store's upcoming spring collection, aching for those precious, few hours at the end of the day when we can finally drop in front of our computers to dream up stories we hope will propel us to fame and fortune, or at least to something vaguely resembling full-time work. No sympathy required or expected - we chose this. Nonetheless, in said predicament, it can be easy to languish, to second-guess, to descend into self-pity, all the while resenting an industry that seems hell-bent on picking favourites and making life for the rest of us literary hopefuls so damned difficult.

You're thinking all this, certain beyond a doubt that your day job is wasting your valuable time as it slowly sucks the last drops of creative energy from your veins, when suddenly a couple begins shouting at each on the other side of the room. Or on the other side of the store. Or at the bus stop. Or wherever you happen to find yourself.

"Wait, what's this," you mutter.

Without warning, curiosity replaces despair. Ennui gives way to "Oh my!" The sense that life as a writer is over is consumed by a killer opening scene and the seeds of a compelling first act. Hopelessness gives way to restlessness - the good kind, out of which great stories are born, nurtured, and raised to adulthood.

In other words, that which you thought life was denying you was there all along - at your disposal, ready to be tapped, mined, and organized into the beats of your next big novel or screenplay! You just needed a good, swift kick to the ankles to realize it. Imagine what would happen if you started each day with a plan to actually look for these little gems, and a grateful heart for the crappy job that provides so many of them?

Now turn to the left. Turn the right. There it is: a story waiting to happen! But for heaven's sake, stop staring!