I’m reading “Bird by Bird” by Anne Lamott, a book of advice on writing. And it got me thinking about this two faced hell/heaven I call writing and trying to make a living out of it, the end goal being to write for a TV show. I have never done so much consistent writing in my life. Not only do I have to wrack my brain for hilarity to bring you in these blog posts (just kidding there is no “wracking” involved, this is all very natural and easy), but I am working on an original pilot, another spec script and several short story ideas I have. With this much nonstop writing going on, I’ve really come face to face with my personal writing process and the bipolar reactions that come with it.
I usually start writing with excitement and confidence. I have so many ideas, details, snippets of dialogue swirling in my mind that I want to include; how could this project not be solid gold? Shortly after that I realize that my thoughts are way too scattered to come together. The very thought of filling an adequate amount of pages and making the story smooth seems impossible, or just like a lot of work. Both of which discourage me. I immediately follow up this reaction by writing down these small details somewhere and then I continue writing, knowing I can add them in whenever and wherever later.
Then I start cruising again. Words flow swiftly yet peacefully like the most beautiful fucking river you could ever imagine. When I’ve reached a place that feels like a good stopping point, I re-read my work. And am so blown away by how terrible it is that I start looking up corporate jobs in Colorado to trick myself into thinking my inevitable move back is more by choice than it actually is. Then… right when I ask myself why anyone would ever want to read this, I keep writing. In the end, after multiple re-writes, I realize that I am slightly satisfied with the result.
Encouraging myself to push through these conflicting emotions and continue to write is tricky. It does not help that I don’t take compliments well (this does not mean you should stop giving them). Instead I find encouragement in the most bizarre forms. I can find motivation to get started writing again in a text message from a friend reminding me of a distant and hilariously amazing college memory. Or in a youtube clip of Tina Fey’s 30 Rock bloopers. Or in a small failure in someone else’s life. Writing is consistently agonizing and rewarding all at the same time. That’s exactly why writers have their vices. Stephen King drank Scope and I eat fro yo.
But even with the staggered stages of happiness in writing there is nothing better than finishing some good stuff that makes someone say, “Oh my God! This is the best thing I’ve ever read! This is worth THOUSANDS, let me get my checkbook!” This has never happened to me, but I can assume there is nothing better.
So there, there was an extra special glimpse into the inner workings of my mind that none of you asked for. But that is my weekly, daily, and hourly struggle while I write and “follow” (more like silently hate) my dreams!
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