Category Archives: The Craft

May 31 0 comments
The Craft

The Process

In screenwriting, the bulk of what you write will never see the light of day. With so many people, so much money and so many variables, it’s understandable that most projects never get produced. A sizable number of scripts are only read by a few people, including the author.

In fiction, few writers make a full-time living from their stories. The rest work day jobs and fight for time to write, occasionally seeing their work published as a book or in a magazine. Some opt for small press publishing or self-publishing, which is an easier route to publication, but most of these writers don’t have the marketing prowess, money, time and luck to see their work reach a large audience. Many even lose money self-publishing. And of course, most never finish their stories at all.

In copywriting, rarely will your work run the gauntlet of designers, art directors, account executives and clients without being edited. Sometimes the edits improve the piece; sometimes they don’t. But while the chances of seeing your work published are much higher in advertising, only a portion of the work will be truly challenging, meaningful and fulfilling. And even great, original work that grabs peoples attention and drives sales is usually forgotten, a means to an end.

Talk about daunting.

If you never publish, will you regret having written? If you publish and sell nothing or receive scathing reviews, will you wish you hadn’t tried? If you write and all of your work is rewritten before press, will you give up? What’s the writer to do when the odds of achieving artistic and commercial success are so stacked against him?

Some quit.

Some sell out, trading integrity for cash.

But a few knuckle down and focus on their love of the process. For them, the crafting of a moving story, an original character, an effective ad, even down to one perfect sentence…the process is its own reward, and the odds are irrelevant. As with all art, writing isn’t a popularity contest. It is a meditation, an exploration.

Writing for the love of writing is a big responsibility. It means that not only are you responsible for the quality of your work, but you’re also responsible for the satisfaction you derive from it. That means no one can take the joy of writing from you. That also means no one can give it to you either.

It’s all on you. What will you do?

May 24 0 comments
The Craft

Learning how to not write

It’s hard enough learning how to write. A story, an ad, a sales letter, a poem, an essay. These skills take years to master. Then the end product may appear deceptively simple, if you’re good enough. The brush strokes may even be invisible, so to speak, but don’t doubt the hard work and practice that went into it.

There’s another lesson that’s often missed in the flurry of wordcraft: How to not write.

This lesson comes in several variations.

Learning when to stop writing

Quentin Tarantino is my favorite example of a tremendously talented writer who lacks an off-switch. His dialogue is so crisp and engaging that it’s hard to imagine cutting it down. His outtakes would be better than most other movies.

And yet, it’s too much. His stories buckle under the weight of his words, and we’re pulled out of the story. Instead of being drawn into the emotion of a scene, we’re captivated (at best; annoyed at worst) by Tarantino’s feats of language. His writing is more stunt than story. Expert, but excessive.

You wouldn’t tell Degas that his paintings would be better if they just had more ballerinas in them. You wouldn’t tell Beethoven that he could take his symphonies to the next level if they were just longer. Sometimes less is more.

Learning when to not start writing

More than once I’ve had clients ask me to come up with copy to fill in some blank space in an ad or brochure. This is a terrible suggestion, not because more copy is never the answer but because copy (or story) isn’t a filler like paint or mulch used to cover holes. A better approach is to start from the top and make sure your message is clear and persuasive. If the writing isn’t doing its job, then you’ve got a bigger problem than some blank space. If the writing is good, then minor adjustments to the design should be able to balance the piece without damaging the message.

But what if the assignment is fundamentally flawed? What if you know that the story won’t work or the ad campaign is a strategic mistake? Do you write it anyway? You do have bills to pay, after all. Or maybe you make a stand and risk losing a check, a client and a line of potential referrals?

One mark of experienced creative and marketing writers is their commitment to projects that will succeed. If a story or ad or client doesn’t look like a green light, they politely decline and wait for the next opportunity. Perhaps the option of saying “no” is one of the perks of success. Or perhaps their success is due in part to their learning when to not write.

Learning when to step away

If you’re a writer, chances are you identify with one of two cultural preconceptions about writers. Are you a starving artist, slaving away in obscurity and sacrificing everything for your art? Or are you a wild genius, indulgent and larger than life, only occasionally coming down to pour out your work in a fit of inspiration?

I’d argue it’s time for a third ideal, the working writer who combines the dedication and hard work of the starving artist with the vivacity and commitment to life experiences of the wild genius. The key is mastering (without surrendering to) the latter’s appreciation of time away from the page. Sometimes staring down the page and soldering through a sales letter or a script isn’t the best approach. Time off, whether it’s for a ten minute walk around the block or a ten day backpacking trip, often results in faster writing and more inspired work.

What about you?

How good are you at not writing?