“Writing out your thoughts is how you realize that you do not understand what you are thinking about. Importantly, writing is also the process by which you figure it out. -Shane Parrish
“A good writer doesn’t just think, and then write down what they thought, as a sort of transcript. A good writer will almost always discover new things in the process of writing.” -Paul Graham
“I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops. To put it another way, they’re like dandelions. If you have one on your lawn, it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day… fifty the day after that… and then, my brothers and sisters, your lawn is totally, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions. By then you see them for the weeds they really are, but by then it’s—GASP!!—too late.” -Stephen King, book On Writing: A Memoir Of The Craft
Here’s my writing process and let me know if it’s similar to yours…
Enthusiasm! A good idea pops into my head that I want to share.
Frustration. 😦 I sit down to write what was in my head and it doesn’t come out so smooth. “What the hell was I trying to say?” I muck my way through.
Enthusiasm!! I wade through the muck and get to the other side. I go deeper with my original thought. “Hey. This is pretty good.” I set it aside and feel good about my work.
Frustration. 😦 😦 I read it later, the next day, and am depressed. “This sucks.” I am particularly aghast at the amount of adverbs I’ve left in. I set out to excise these dandelions (“Should I remove particularly?…I’m unsure.”) and all the extra words I can. I muck my way through.
Enthusiasm/Frustration. Yeah it’s better, but if I just had more time I could…
…Deadline is here. Read it over one last time and make any edits.
“More than intelligence or persistence or connections, curiosity has allowed me to live the life I wanted.” -Brian Grazer, book A Curious Mind
“Passion is the result of a good life design, not the cause.” –Bill Burnett and Dave Evans, book Designing Your Life
“Follow Your Passion” isn’t always the right advice. Especially for a young person.
Most people don’t know what they’re passionate about. Let alone have a passion. Studies including one from William Damon, director of the Stanford Center on Adolescence show that only one in five young people between twelve and twenty-six have a clear vision of where they want to go, what they want to accomplish in life, and why. Other similar studies suggest that 80% of ALL ages don’t really know what they’re passionate about. (These studies are referenced in the excellent book “Design Your Life” by Bill Burnett and Dave Evans.)
Passion comes from doing things. Seeing what you like, what you’re good at, what you’re interested in.
So instead, why not follow your curiosity as author Elizabeth Gilbert suggests below….
I am a big advocate for the pursuit of curiosity. You’ve maybe heard me talk about this before? We are constantly being told to pursue our passions in life, but there are times when passion is a TALL ORDER, and really hard to reach. In seasons of confusion, of loss, of boredom, of insecurity, of distraction, the idea of “passion” can feel completely inaccessible and impossible. In such times, you are lucky to be able to get your laundry done (that sometimes feels as high as you can aim) and when someone tells you to follow your passion, you want to give them the middle finger. (Go ahead and do it, by the way. But wait till their back is turned, out of civility.)
But curiosity, I have found, is always within reach.
Passion is a tower of flame, but curiosity is a tiny tap on the shoulder — a little whisper in the ear that says, “Hey, that’s kind of interesting…”
Passion is rare; curiosity is everyday.
Curiosity is therefore a lot easier to reach at at times than full-on passion — and the stakes are lower, easier to manage.
The trick is to just follow your small moments of curiosity. It doesn’t take a massive effort. Just turn your head an inch. Pause for a instant. Respond to what has caught your attention. Look into it a bit. Is there something there for you? A piece of information?
For me, a lifetime devoted to creativity is nothing but a scavenger hunt — where each successive clue is another tiny little hit of curiosity. Pick each one up, unfold it, see where it leads you next.
Small steps.
Keep doing that, and I promise you: The curiosity will eventually lead you to the passion.
Lunt and Fontanne did many plays together. One night, while performing in a comedy, Lunt got a huge laugh when his character asked for a cup of tea. The next night, he said the line more pointedly, and the laugh got even bigger.
The following week, he came offstage feeling thrown because the laugh didn’t happen where he expected. He asked Fontanne what happened, and she said “The scene is you asking for tea.” He said, “I know, but the laugh was there yesterday.”
She responded, “Darling, don’t ask for the laugh. Just ask for the tea.”
You’re working correctly where instead of wanting laughs from the audience (stems from our desire to please and get approval), you’re actually annoyed by the laughter. You’re “in it”, so focused on getting what you want from the other person that the laughs kinda get in the way. They’re an obstacle now, impeding your progress. You might feel insulted and think to yourself, “Are you laughing at me?”
“If the actors are going to hold nothing back in front of the camera, I can hold nothing back in front of them. They have to be able to trust me, to know that I “feel” them and what they’re doing. This mutual trust is the most important element between the actor and me.” -Sidney Lumet, Making Movies
For the director…
In a collaborative medium like film or theatre, your top priority must be to establish trust with all your fellow artists. To create a safe space where they feel comfortable to risk.
Some of the ways you DO that include…
…being incredibly prepared.
…having a clear vision and communicating it to them (this is where a concept statement is your best friend).
…remaining open to all possibilities.
…having tons of energy and enthusiasm.
…always being honest, yet encouraging.
Some of the ways you DON’T build trust include…
…asking them to do something you wouldn’t do yourself.
…choking off their creativity.
…leading with ego.
…disrespecting or making them feel less than, especially when they’re out on that ledge, being vulnerable, risking themselves. They’ll shut down and you’ll lose them forever. Game over.
Most good actors have their best take early. Usually, by the fourth time you’ve done it (Take 4), they’ve poured out the best in themselves. This is particularly true of big, emotional scenes. Movies, however, are a technical medium. Things go wrong despite preparations. A door slams off the set, the microphone gets in the shot, the camera operator goofs, the dolly pusher misses his cue. When this happens, the actor has an awful time. Having “emptied out” once, he now has to fill up again. The only way around the problem is to shoot take after take, because the “refill” can come at any time after Take 8 or Take 10 or Take 12. I try to supply the actor with something new each time to stimulate his feelings, but after a time my imagination runs out.
One story sums up all the painful problems I’ve been talking about in this chapter. It was on The Fugitive Kind. In a scene with Anna Magnani, Brando had a long speech that contained some of Tennessee Williams’s best writing. Using beautiful imagery, he compares himself to a bird that’s never able to find itself at home anywhere on earth. Condemned to soar aimlessly over the world, it never alights until it dies. Boris Kaufman had arranged some complex lighting changes. The light on the back walls slowly faded away until only Marlon was left lit, in a kind of limbo. A complicated camera move was also part of the shot.
Marlon started Take 1. About two-thirds of the way through the speech, he stopped. He’d forgotten his lines. We started Take 2. The lights didn’t fade properly. Take 3: Marlon forgot his lines at the exact same spot. Take 4: Marlon stopped again at the same line. Until then, I had never gone more than four takes with Marlon on anything. Take 5: The camera move was wrong. Take 6. Take 7. Take 8. Marlon’s memory was failing at the same line. By now it was 5:30. We were on overtime. Marlon had told me about some personal problems he was having at the time. I suddenly realized there was a direct connection between his troubles and the line he couldn’t remember. We tried again. He stopped. I went up to him and said that if he wanted, we could break until tomorrow, but I didn’t want this block to build up overnight. I thought we should bull through it no matter how long it took. Marlon agreed. Take 12. Take 18. It was getting embarrassing. Magnani, the crew, all of us were in agony for him. Take 22. No good for camera. It was almost a relief when something was not Marlon’s fault. I debated whether to say anything about what I thought was bothering him. I decided it would be too great a personal violation of a confidence. Take 27, 28. I told Marlon that since I’d be cutting to Anna anyway, we could do a pickup. A pickup is where you begin a new take at the point where the old take was interrupted. Marlon said no. He wanted to get it all in one take. The ending of the speech would be stronger that way.
Finally, on Take 34, two and a half hours after we started, he did it all. And beautifully. I almost wept with relief. We walked back to his dressing room together. Once we were inside, I told him that I might have been able to help him but felt it wasn’t my right. He looked at me and smiled as only Brando can smile, so that you think daybreak has come. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. We hugged and went home.
Everything about actors and movie acting is in that story. The use of self at whatever cost, the self-knowledge, the confidence that a director and actor have to develop in each other, the devotion to a text (Marlon never questioned the words), the dedication to the work, the craft.
It’s experiences like that that make me love actors.
Trust. Trust. Trust. It’s everything.
P.S. – Speaking of trust and vulnerability, this scene. R.I.P. Adrienne Shelley.
“The most important element in an actor’s performance is confidence.” -Howard Hawks
When faced with a difficult task, you can be confident you can accomplish said task for one of two reasons:
Direct experience. You’ve done this exact thing before. You can do it again.
Indirect experience. You haven’t done this before. But you’ve done plenty of hard things in your life. You can do it again. You can look someone square in the eye and say, “I’ve never done this before. But I know I can figure it out. I got you.”
“Thinking in bets starts with recognizing that there are exactly two things that determine how our lives turn out: the quality of our decisions and luck. Learning to recognize the difference between the two is what thinking in bets is all about.” -Annie Duke
“Failure is an opportunity. If you blame someone else, there is no end to the blame. Therefore the Master fulfills her own obligations and corrects her own mistakes. She does what she needs to do and demands nothing of others.” –Tao Te Ching by Lao-Tzu (Stephen Mitchell Translation)
“In the archer there is a resemblance to the mature person. When he misses the mark, he turns and seeks the reason for his failure in himself.” -Confucius
Just like life as in poker…
You can’t control the hand you’re dealt.
You can only only control how you play the hand. The decisions you make from there determine the quality of your outcomes.
Wondering “why did this happen to me?” is only helpful as a learning exercise.
Did your habits let you down? Okay, correct them for the future.
Or was it dumb luck? Often that’s the case and the right play is to fold. Move on. Next hand.
P.S. – “Don’t you worry son. It will all be over soon.” This scene.
The passion project you’re about to embark on will be harder than you ever could’ve imagined.
It will cost more and take longer than you think.
All kinds of things will go wrong that you never could have planned for.
You will be pushed to your absolute limit. And beyond.
Still want to proceed?
Good.
Because if you do, you’ll remember it for the rest of your life.
P.S. – Supposedly the explorer Ernest Shackleton took out the advertisement pictured above seeking crew for his infamous Antarctic expedition. He was flooded with responses. Over 5,000 answered his call.
One of the awesome things about being a writer or producer (sometimes you’re both) in a collaborative medium like theatre or film or television is you get to set the table for other talented artists to do amazing work. Your passion and persistence provides a platform for other artists. It’s an amazing gift for them and the audience who gets to see this passion in action.
In his memoir “Making Movies” (I highly recommend), the director Sidney Lumet recounts a conversation he had with Arthur Miller…
Arthur Miller’s first and, I think, only novel, “Focus”, was, in my opinion, every bit as good as his first produced play, “All My Sons.” I once asked him why, if he was equally talented in both forms, he chose to write plays. Why would he give up the total control of the creative process that a novel provides to write instead for communal control, where a play would first go into the hands of a director and then pass into the hands of a cast, set designer, producer, and so forth? His answer was touching. He said that he loved seeing what his work evoked in others. The result could contain revelations, feelings, and ideas that he never knew existed when he wrote the play. It’s what we all hope for.
The Vs. Studio Blog 