The Practice

Stay open for business.
--Gordon Lish

You have never felt more uninspired.  You don't have the energy, you don't have the will, you don't have... it.  The temptation to avoid the blank page is so powerful that anything -- watching reality TV, scraping poop out of parrot cages, even going to the gym -- seems a vastly more meaningful pursuit.  Surely you can skip the hour or two you've set aside to write, just this once.  You'll make up for it tomorrow.  What could you possibly write, right now, that could be worth the effort?  So you close the journal, shut down the laptop, step away from the desk.

You're fucked.

Let me ask you this: Who is the muse most likely to visit?  The writer who's always in her chair at the appointed hour, day after day, or the one who has to be chased down, who shows up when it's most convenient?

Or this: How does LeBron James score 44 points in a single game?

An interview with the illustrious producer/songwriter Nick Lowe (you may know him best for his work with Elvis Costello in the late Seventies) can be found in the current issue of The Believer.  He had this to say about his process:

Sometimes I find that I have this sort of… this sort of other—I have this person or this thing which I call “the Bloke.” The Bloke is, I suppose, a kind of inspirational thing that—I used to say that when I, you know, was writing songs—I have written a couple of songs, but since I’ve had a little boy, it’s very, very difficult to devote time to it, so I haven’t written much for a while. But I always used to talk about how the best songs that I write are written when the Bloke comes ’round. And it’s this sort of person who I never know when they’re gonna come, or how to get in touch with him, or anything like that, but when they come along, it’s almost like they’re not interested in doing any interviews, they’re not interested in being on the TV or doing any tours; they’re this fantastic songwriter to show me their songs and I write, I do their songs, and claim them for my own. And sometimes the Bloke doesn’t come ’round for months, you know, and I don’t know how to get in touch with him, but I’ve seen him work so many times that I can do a very good impersonation of the Bloke, you know. And I know the difference, I know the difference between my songs, the ones I do and I write, and the ones the Bloke writes.

I'm going to go out on an extremely short limb and say that Mr. Lowe's Bloke only came round in the first place because Mr. Lowe had his guitar out and his amp on and a pick in his hand.  In the interview, he  marvels at his friend John Hiatt, who really does go to an office every day to write songs, and Nick Lowe professes to be unable to do such a thing.  But given that he also talks about what it takes, in terms of time and energy, to write a single song, I wouldn't exactly call him a slacker:

It takes me months to write one two-and-a-half-minute song. Months! Not always, but—weeks, it can take me weeks to get it, to go over and over it. But I do it when I’m driving my car or I’m doing my shopping or something, and I just think about it and think about it and hit myself with it, you know, “How’s this?” And you jag on a bit, “Woah, hold on, that’s not good,” and then you smooth it out, maybe employ a clever use of a cliché, you know, just to smooth it out, and then you do a clever bit later. So I work on it like mad...

For me, writing is like breathing.  I'm always writing something...  Writing is like training for an athlete or practice for a musician.  If you stop entirely, it takes a long time to get your pace back.
--Haruki Murakami

Then there are writers who keep writing, rewriting far beyond the point where some sane people would pronounce a work finished.  The method to this madness is actually quite simple:

Writing is like a sculpture where you remove, you eliminate in order to make the work visible.  Even those  pages you remove somehow remain.  There is a difference between a book of two hundred pages from the very beginning, and a book of two hundred pages which is the result of an original eight hundred pages.  The six hundred pages are there.  Only you don't see them.
--Elie Wiesel

Which returns me to my original point.  Until there is a draft, there is nothing.  And a draft is written one page, one sentence, one word at a time.  The only way out is through.

Sometimes, if things are going badly, I will force myself to write a page in half an hour.  I find that can be done.  I find that what I write when I force myself is generally just as good as what I write when I'm feeling inspired.  It's mainly a matter of forcing yourself to write.  There's a marvelous essay that Sinclair Lewis wrote on how to write.  He said most writers don't understand that the process begins by actually sitting down.
--Tom Wolfe

You're going to die, along with the rest of us.  Are you so fundamentally silly in spirit as to pretend that this fact can be ignored?  So, then -- you who are blessed and cursed with the belief that you have something worthwhile to say -- what have you said today?  What starting point have you given yourself that can be moved on from, tomorrow? 

Fall seven times, stand up eight.

--Japanese proverb

 

(photos: Catherine's Room by Bill Viola)

Comments

[E.C. Henry]

Great post, Billy. Love the Gordon Lish opening quote, "Stay open for buisness." You've gotta stay "in the game" to reap the rewards. (Their are rewards, right?)

Billy, there are SO MANY WAYS to avoid the paryalysis of the facing the blank page. You've got to do a lot of story mental prep work BEFORE you write, or as you said so bluntly in mid-post, "You're fucked." Notes, outline, then write...

You're very right about making this a daily practice too. The more you write, the more often you make yourself acessible to flashes of brilliance. JUST last Wendsday while "practicing" (writing outside with my labtop) I had one of those "in the zone" writing moments and it was awesome. Had all the notes, outline, but I wrote something FRESH off script, which made it in the script -- if that makes any sense. A diamond in the rough, but with enouth Eureka I think merrits polishing.

I think what I'm getting at is writers are mind minners. We mine our minds in search of gold, diamonds and all kinds of precious jewels. And like a gold minner a writer's highest high comes in that moment when they find that precious gem. It's like, "Hey, I finnaly did something right." But getting to that point took HOURS of hard slucing in cold waters...

But you only get there if you PRACTICE. Okay, drill master general. Time to follow that advice. Time to PRACTICE; I'm a morning writer. Hopefully I put the finishing touches on a draft I've just of a script thats over 250 page. Lots of rewriting work, ya think?!

- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA

[Laura Deerfield]

I needed this.

The times in my life I've written my best work were the times I've written the most often, and some of my greatest poems were done as an exercise in grad school.

I've been stuck for a long time, but I've only been writing sporadically.

Time to commit to writing time, and not worry about what it is I write.

[Andrew Lamb]

Thanks for this.

That's only I'm going to say -there's a script that needs finishing...

[Bill]

Somewhere, Marquez says great writers are great not for what they write but for what they don't. (Referring to Wiesel's point.) I've always argued that the difference between writers and people who want to write is not writing something but in rewriting it. Again and again.

And having said that, where the hell is that damn Bloke today anyway?

[J]

Such an amazing post. Especially for me, right now.

When life is at it's most out of control, and I feel the least able to make sense of it, that's when I need to sit down and do my best.

[Caitlin]

Sometimes I force myself to write despite feeling uninspired, and I usually end up surprising myself by writing something decent. But usually, I'll just go find some inspiration. For me, that means either re-reading a book that captures my imagination, or eating mushrooms.

[Reay]

Excellent, thought-provoking words. And perhaps not wholly coincidental that I read this very shortly after feeling uninspired and like I'm drifting on my current project.

Fall down seven times, get up eight.
The only way out is through.

I suspect these will prove to become mantras for a good number of us.

Thank you.

[JamminGirl]

Thanks for the read. It was a kick in the ass. No I must shamefacedly write the script.

[Chris]

Some people thought this was bunk, but Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) spoke at TED this year regarding creativity and how it manifests/how we use it. Worth checking out:
http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html

[Frank Conniff]

Billy, the thing about your post is... uh, never mind, sorry, don't feel like writing today.

[Christian H.]

I totally agree. I banged my head on several scripts while trying to work out a problem.
Because I went back to my research, I was able to not only write myself out of the scene but also to make it better than I thought it would be the original way it was.

So I guess it's all writing and you can have the equivalent of an epiphany using an outline or research or just re-reading the scene.

Some of my best dialog comes from just re-reading the words a few times.

But I believe it was Woody Allen who said "showing up is most of the battle" (paraphrased).

[mernitman]

EC: 250? Awesome. You could be the next Eric Roth.

Laura: I hear that.

Andrew: Glad I could be of service. You have a lovely site. Like the portraiture especially.

Bill: It seems he's never around when you need one.

J: Exacta-monte!

Caitlin: Yeah, I can go either way, myself.

Rav: Drifting is so seductive... And sometimes necessary, too. Think my next post may address this.

JamminGirl: No shame, no blame.

Chris: Thank you so much for this amazing talk!!!

Frank: I wish I could remember what I was going to say about this.

Christian: "Ninety percent of life is just showing up."

[Bill]

I have a theory about that drifting business (or writer's block) ... You're still writing, you just aren't aware of it.

Somewhere in your brain, in the "not-top-of-mind" part, you're arranging, rearranging, connecting, disconnecting and more or less figuring out what needs to be done.

Inspiration is when the guys in the R&D area of your brain knock on the door and say, "Here it is."

[mernitman]

Bill: Yup. And my next post is going to be about exactly this...

[Nick Banasihan]

Hello, Billy!

It's been almost a year since my last time I have touched upon the topic of screenwriting, and it seems that this post is the most appropriate one among the screenwriting blogs I've just read. (There were two blogs before yours.)

In anything in my life, it has always been that practice makes me better. I have been programming computers for the past year (and that's why I haven't been writing anything). Even if I have been able to practice writing through other was like songs, poetry and blog prose, screenwriting still is a different animal for me.

And rightly so. I'm reading the blogs to get my mind back on track. Of course, I also need to begin to write. Hopefully I would begin to record good ideas for sitcoms once again.

Graphite Leaves is active once again. http://graphiteleaves.blogspot.com Drop by when you have the time. :)

- Nick

[Bhurn]

Thanks for the post, Billy.

Loved the last paragraph.

There's nothing quite as daunting as the time between the one you just finished and the one you're about to start.

Which is where I am now. Ugh! The goal is to make that chasm as small as possible.

[Beth]

this is the sort of post that, whenever you come upon it, it will often seem like it was written for you to read that very day.

i sometimes think that there ought to be a group with daily meetings: AWA, Avoidant Writers Anonymous. ;)

[mernitman]

Nick: Glad to hear you out among us.

Bhurn: Ever perused my guide, Better Chasm-Shrinking Through Writing Schedules?

Beth: There would be too many members for the group to ever meet.

[patry francis]

Thank you. I just may come back to reread this daily--after I finish my practice, of course.