by Jenna | Nov 22, 2013 | Science Fiction, ScriptMag Articles
Here's a new article over on the ScriptMag site about breaking into the market as a sci-fi screenwriter.
By now you know how fascinated I am in not only how to write a great sci-fi script, but also in what it takes to break into the market as a sci-fi screenwriter. So when I heard that screenwriter Dan Gordon had recently had a sci-fi screenplay optioned, I reached out to him to… [read more at ScriptMag]
Image by Angela Yuriko Smith from Pixabay
by Jenna | Nov 20, 2013 | Writing Articles
I've had three experiences lately that have triggered performance anxiety for me. Two assignments, where I've delivered a project to someone else, and one where I'm sharing my work with other people in a public forum. Now you might think I'd be over that by now, given that I'm writing publicly every week, teaching classes, and coaching on the spot all the time. I'm in a constant practice of "performing" or being in the spotlight.
But the truth is, that whenever we venture into new territory, our fears and doubts about our ability to "deliver" can come cropping up fairly quickly. I've observed that performance anxiety tends to come up as a result of three things:
- We're trying something new.
- We're holding high expectations about the quality of the work we "should" be delivering.
- Other people are holding high expectations about our work as well (or we believe they are).
Performance anxiety tends to trigger an inner conversation (if we're even conscious of it, which we might not be) that goes something like this: "What if I let them down? What if it's not as good as they expect? What if I can't live up to their expectations? What if I can't live up to my own expectations?"
And that conversation in turn tends to leads to paralysis, perfectionism, and procrastination -- the three Ps of writing doom.
What's your mindset?
As I was noticing this behavior in myself as well as the inner conversation about it, I was reminded of Carol Dweck's book on Mindset* that I've been reading lately.
In it, she describes interesting scenarios under which people demonstrate either a fixed or growth mindset. The sports examples particularly resonated for me.
In one example, she talked about how John McEnroe, a tennis player famous for his on-court temper tantrums, illustrated the fixed mindset perfectly. The minute anything would go wrong with his game, he was full of excuses about distractions, noises, other people, etc. It was never his fault and never his responsibility. This is very common among people who perceive themselves as talented or have the belief that other people see them as talented.
In other words, because we are so talented, we believe we shouldn't have to work at it.
On the other hand, she also described Michael Jordon, and how after his basketball comeback, when they lost the big game of the season, he went back to the gym that night and worked on his game. He knew that he'd been resting on his laurels, thinking he could just drop back into the game after time away, and he was determined to change that -- through hard work and dedication to raising the bar on his skill set.
And that's the difference, that right there. The belief that talent and ability are fixed versus the belief that a skill set can be mastered and improved.
Strategies for dealing with performance anxiety
I've worked with two teachers lately who have really brought this home for me: Hal Croasmun of ScreenwritingU.com and Corey Mandell, both screenwriting instructors. Hal reminds me to have a "beginner's mind" and to learn to be comfortable with the discomfort of growth. Corey reminds me to focus on what I'm learning, not on where I'm failing.
Ideas for dealing with performance anxiety:
- Make growth mindset choices rather than fixed mindset choices. Keep working, learning, and growing. You'll only get better.
- As Hal says, be comfortable with the discomfort of growth and be willing to allow yourself to be a beginner.
- As Corey suggests, keep your focus on what you're learning, not on how you haven't yet mastered the new skill you're attempting to integrate.
- Shift your self-talk by first recognizing that fear and doubt are coming up and helping yourself through it. "Okay, I'm worried about what other people think. What if I just let that go and focus on doing the best work I'm capable of right now, and allow myself to learn as I go?"
- Give yourself permission to fully engage in the messy, glorious process of learning and revel in it.
- Reward yourself for your efforts.
- Have lots of support from your peers.
- Be authentic about what you're experiencing with yourself and with your peers. You'll all benefit from it.
- Find ways to create accountability for yourself so that you do the work, even in the face of creative anxiety.
- Create a little extra time and space around the learning to help ease up on the pressure.
What works for you?
I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
Warmly,
p.s. I haven't forgotten that I promised last week to write more about creative identity -- and I will, soon! Stay tuned. :)
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by Jenna | Nov 13, 2013 | Writing Articles
Last week I met with a group of 13 moms to talk about "Designing Your Writing Life as a Mom". I was struck by the disconnect many of the mothers were experiencing around their creative identity, which is something many writers struggle with, parents or not.
Observations about creative identity
Here's what I noticed about creative identity through talking with these moms and working with writers through my writing community. And certainly the question of creative identity is not specific to writers, either, it translates across all forms of creative expression.
- When you aren't owning your creative identity, you can feel out of step with yourself, like you neither belong here nor there. This is about not being in touch with a sense of thinking of yourself as a "writer" or an "artist" yet -- or ever. (Some people don't like labels of any kind, but that's not quite what we're talking about here.) It's about having a deep sense of inner rightness connected to how you think of your answer to the question, "Who am I?"
- Coming to terms with your identity as an artist or writer can require dealing with old expectations and limiting beliefs about what it means to be creative. Sometimes, I find that these thoughts and beliefs revolve around negative perceptions of creativity as flaky and ungrounded. Sometimes this can also mean letting go of expectations -- and previous self-incarnations -- of wild and prolific creativity, especially when faced with Real Life challenges (like parenting, care giving, careers, and day jobs).
- As a culture we tend to diminish or devalue writing and creativity, so sometimes we resist calling ourselves by those identities. We're afraid to be laughed at or seen as not being serious by our peers in "real" jobs.
- As a culture we tend to also exalt creative expression only for certain types of artists or writers (usually "talented" or "successful" in a certain way), and we feel ashamed to try to claim our creative identity "too soon." I see this a lot in the debate about when we can consider ourselves "real" writers. Do we have to be published first? Do we have to be paid first? Many writers, including me, feel that if we're writing regularly we can call ourselves writers. I see this showing up when people say, "I am a struggling writer" or "I am a wannabe writer."
- Going through a major life transition can challenge your creative identity, like motherhood, major loss, career change, or divorce. I imagine this challenge could come in a good sense -- helping us more fully claim our identities -- or in more challenging one, where we lose all sense of ourselves and can't seem to find our way back. Often this comes about when we make a transition from one career to another (even if it's from one creative career to another). When I became a coach and left my urban design work behind, it took a long time to feel like a coach. When I became a writer as well as a coach, it took another solid chunk of time to transition into seeing myself as a writer.
Identity challenges coming out of an MFA program
One thing that also struck me when I listened to the mothers the other day was about how many of them had been through MFA programs and then into motherhood and now weren't writing. I suspect there are a few components to that process. In the first place, an MFA program can be an extremely intense phase of writing time -- even binge-writing -- which can be quite exhausting and requires time to recover from. I can still remember how finishing graduate school myself felt like hitting a brick wall -- intense action followed by a sudden, total full stop that left me adrift, much in the way a rushing river spilling out into a lake or ocean suddenly loses its force.
There's also a major shift in community. One writer I interviewed about going through an MFA program said, "There is a sense of loss in leaving an MFA program. You're surrounded by people who really care about writing, and then when you leave, you need to find a way to get continued support for your writing, and it's not easy."
On top of that, while an MFA program can be about becoming a writer in a very real sense, the focus is primarily on craft, and not so much on developing a consistent writing practice. My interviewee commented, "When I graduated, it was like I reentered the 'real world' and realized that, while I'd no doubt become a better writer, I hadn't developed consistent, sustainable writing habits, which was about learning a whole new skill." So it's easy to imagine that writers coming out of an intense program might suddenly feel at a loss about how to continue -- and even start to wonder who they are as their entire foundation changes.
Next time we'll talk more about how to reclaim your identity as an artist or writer if you've lost it or you're struggling to claim it.
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by Jenna | Nov 6, 2013 | Writing Articles
If you're a parent, having a regular writing routine takes on an additional layer of complexity -- especially in the early years. It's hard enough to handle being a parent (and even more so if you're ALSO highly sensitive or introverted as many writers are), and if you've got a career on top of it, it's easy to let writing take a back seat to the more pressing day-to-day demands.
The funny thing is that in some ways it's EASIER to design your writing life as a parent because it requires quite deliberate attention and focus, or it simply won't happen at all.
Many writers -- parents or not -- tend to dream of having long, uninterrupted blocks of time to write. What's fascinating to me about this dream is that 1) it often stops people from writing if they DON'T have it, and 2) it often stops people from writing if they DO have it.
For those you fondly cherishing the dream of long stretches of time to write you might be thinking, "What the heck is she talking about?"
But here's the thing. What we see quite consistently in the writing community is that writers who aren't writing regularly don't tend to benefit from having MORE time to write. If anything, they just tend to go into greater paralysis and procrastination.
Why on earth would something like this happen?
We've talked about this a lot here, but it's worth saying again. (And again.) Fear is why writing doesn't happen.
Big blocks of time simply INCREASE the pressure on writing. Which increases the fear. Which increases the resistance and procrastination. Entire days and weeks can go by and no writing happens.
Looking for big blocks of time is one of the fastest ways into paralysis I've seen.
So, writers, and particularly parent writers, let's just give up that fantasy for now, shall we? At least until your writing habit is so firmly ensconced in your daily routine that expanding your time won't send you into fits of terror. Or procrastination. (On a side note, that still happens even with the most experienced of writers, so don't worry too much if it crops up. Just find a way to get back to the writing as quickly as possible.)
The bottom line for all writers -- and particularly for parents -- is that creating some kind of routine around your writing is key. Reduce the variables, reduce the amount of time available, and create parameters around your writing so that it HAS TO GET DONE at a certain time or it won't get done at all.
The reason that this is easier for parents, in my opinion, is that it is actually TRUE. It isn't fabricated quite as artificially for non-parents. For writers who aren't parents, it's easier to tell ourselves we'll just write before bed or after work or some other random opportunity that comes along but often gets swallowed up by television or internet browsing. For parents, there's a cold hard reality that stares us right in the face. Those kids are coming home at a certain time and the chances of pulling off any kind of writing after that point in time are slim to none unless we have some kind of pre-arranged plan with our spouses or co-parents to make it happen.
For non-parent writers, particularly those entrepreneurial types who work from home (like me, pre-kid), it's SO MUCH HARDER to find something to "bump up against" in your schedule because so often your time is entirely self-directed. This is part of why we run so many writing sprints for my writing community -- it provides a scheduled opportunity to write for an hour that's both fixed in time and fun to participate in.
On the other hand, the challenges for parents can be trickier too. Honestly, I didn't even know what busy was until I had a child. I really thought I did. Truly! I was so wrong. Being a parent takes so much of my attention bandwidth and energy, I have to be exceedingly deliberate now about making time and energy available for writing too, in such a way that it doesn't feel like I'm taking it overly away from my son or from my work. A dicey balance to say the least.
Here are a few tips for parents -- that ultimately translate for all writers -- into a designing a writing life that works:
- Get clear about the assumptions you're making about writing. What are you telling yourself about what you need to write that might be getting in your way of actually doing the work? (See also my article about "Buts" here.)
- Get clear about WHY you want to write. What's important to you about it? For me, it has a lot to do with my identity that's totally separate from my role as a mother, and I firmly believe is part of what keeps me sane.
- Make a decision that writing for SOME amount of time is better than NO amount of time. Let go of the idea that writing for long blocks of time is the only way to do it. If you target 15 minutes a day, you can accomplish a tremendous amount of writing over time if you show up and do it consistently.
- Get out your calendar and take a both ruthless and creative approach to carving out the time to write. Think about when the kids are occupied or when you can talk your spouse into watching them for you. Give yourself the gift of protected, uninterrupted writing time, even if it's just for a few minutes a day.
- Be aware that IF you have any kind of resistance to writing or tendencies to procrastinate (this is most of us!) it's easiest to write first thing in the morning before you have time to think about it or talk yourself out of it. For a few months I tried writing every day after I dropped my son off at preschool but found that because it felt like "work time" I had a hard time focusing on writing. So I started getting up at 6 a.m. to write everyday -- and knew that I had to be done by 7 a.m. when my husband would leave for work -- so I had to get it done then. It changed my life. (See my articles about writing early in the morning here and here.)
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by Jenna | Oct 30, 2013 | Writing Articles
One of my all time favorite quotes about writing comes from Steven Pressfield, author of what has become my bible for writing, The War of Art*. In it, he says:
"There's a secret that real writers know that wannabe writers don't, and the secret is this: It's not the writing part that's hard. What's hard is sitting down to write. What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance."
As a writing habit and motivation coach, I work with writers all over the world who face and tackle this resistance every single day as they struggle to sit down to write. Very often that resistance takes the form of the word "But".
- But I don't have enough time.
- But I don't have enough training.
- But I don't know what to write.
- But I'm not inspired.
- But I'm not a good enough writer.
- But I'm not in the right mood.
- But I need to take care of all these other tasks first.
- But I'm not making enough money yet to justify taking time to write.
- But I don't have a laptop.
- But I'm tired, I didn't get enough sleep last night.
- But I'm too busy.
- But my day job takes up too much of my time.
- But I don't have a private space.
- But my kids will interrupt me.
- But my mom might call and need me.
- But I'm bored with this project.
- But I can't decide which project to start with.
- But I'm stuck.
- But I have writer's block.
- But if I was a real writer, it would come easily to me.
- But I have to deal with this crisis/emergency/major life issue first.
Guess what?
All these Buts are just stories. They are coming up for a deeper reason.
The deeper reason is fear.
Fear is what truly stops us from writing. The Buts are just the surface level rationalizations for fear. They are convenient excuses to keep your butt out of your chair and doing other things so you don't have to face the discomfort of taking on your dream.
Pressfield also says:
"Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work."
It turns out that actually DOING the writing is fairly easy. Most of the writers I work with find that once they are actually putting words on the page, they forget about the inner struggle and just do the work. In my writing community we run five weekly group writing sprints to help our writers overcome the resistance to sitting down to write (and to curtail the sense of isolation). My other favorite trick is to write first thing in the morning with a timer running. Pushing the start button gives me a "GO" that gets me into gear even when the Buts are loud and pernicious.
The thing to notice here is that fear is a beacon. It guides you exactly where you need to and even want to go, though you may not be aware of that wanting yet. The thing is, if it wasn't a big, big dream, you wouldn't be afraid of it.
No, I'm not talking here about naturally protective fear that keeps you safe from lions, tigers, and bears -- that's GOOD fear -- I'm talking about the kind of fear that's a holdover from when you were a kid, the kind that's trying to keep you safe from any kind of personal humiliation or risk. This is also the kind of fear that's keeping you "safe" from achieving your dreams.
I didn't quite mean for this to become an ode to Steven Pressfield, but he has so much genius on this subject I can't help sharing a few more of my favorite quotes from him about fear:
"Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember our rule of thumb: The more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it."
And:
"Figure out what scares you the most and do that first."
So it's time.
It's time to stop listening to the Buts, the fears, the doubts, and the rationalizations. It's time to site down and do the work, to coax yourself through the fear with lots of support and promises of rewards, to feed your own well of creative inspiration so you feel consistently nourished and ready to write, and to learn whatever you need to learn so you feel equipped to do the writing. But above all else, it's time to write.
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