Human beings are built for adversity. Probably all extant species are, or they wouldn’t still be extant. But we humans in particular—lacking claws, fur, fangs, etc.—have needed the evolutionary edge of being designed for hard times. Almost every great book or movie is about adversity. Moby Dick, War and Peace, The Hangover. The whole concept of “story,” of three-act structure, is about a protagonist confronting adversity. As Billy Wilder used to say, “Act One, get your hero up a tree; Act Two, throw stones at him; Act Three, get him down out of the tree.” Or Kurt Vonnegut: all stories…

We were talking last week about thinking in terms of multiple drafts. The corollary is to concentrate on only one objective per draft — e.g., stakes, rhythm, theme, length, and so forth. Another one I like is Major Key and Minor Key. I’ll go over a manuscript or screenplay, for example, looking only for these. I’ll ask myself, How much of this piece is in a major key? Are there moments in a minor key, and, if so, where are they and why are they there? What do I mean by “major key” and “minor key?” Action movies are major…

[Quick note: if you’re interested in the videos we started here last Wednesday (“A Long Tail Business“), they continue this week—and for the next month—on Mondays. Click here or on “The Series” drop-down menu above to view the other videos.] I imbibed this piece of screenwriting wisdom from Jack Epps (“Top Gun,” “Dick Tracy”) a few years ago: “You can’t do everything in one draft.” Hollywood is like major league baseball. The manager doesn’t hesitate to bring in a reliever. Writer #1 originates the script. He gets fired. Writer #2 is brought in to solidify the structure. She gets yanked.…

I’m aware that there’s an official definition of narcissism in the Psychiatric Handbook. The following is my unofficial definition—and a theory of how narcissism comes about in the first place. Narcissism is self-iconization. To control our internal terror, insecurity, etc., one mode of coping is to erect an icon in our minds. This icon might be a mentor, a role model, a guru. It might be a lover or a parent, a teacher, a coach. I’ve done it. We’ve all done it. Sometimes it’s healthy. It’s a stage in the progression toward independence and self-command. When we set someone up…

One mistake that beginning writers often make is to forget about setups and payoffs. Sometimes they’ll have great setups but no payoffs. Other times they’ll invent a fantastic payoff, but fail utterly to set it up. I used to make those mistakes all the time. I’d kick off Act One of a screenplay with all kinds of provocative premises. Then I’d forget about ’em and fizzle my way to a no-bang climax. Or I’d have a dynamite finish that fell unannounced out of the sky. Think about a joke. It has two parts: a setup and a punch line. A…

We were talking last week about acquiring mojo, which I defined as that state when we are going gangbusters in our writing, art, or business. It’s “flow.” It’s “the Zone.” The only problem with having Big Mojo, in my experience, is you can’t keep it up for long. I know I can’t. My nervous system can’t take it. Three weeks maybe, four tops. What do I do then? I flake out. Deliberately. I knock off. I get outa Dodge. I take a break. Years ago, I had a small freelance business. I used to get into trouble because I couldn’t…

We’ve been talking for the past few weeks about thinking in blocks of time, saying no to distractions, and digging in for traction. What’s the point of all this? The point is to produce mojo. According to Wikipedia, mojo is “a magical charm bag used in hoodoo, which has transmuted into a slang word for self-confidence, self-esteem or sex appeal.” Here’s my definition: Mojo is a force field of positive attraction produced by sweat, intention, dedication and love. It’s a groove, a rhythm. It’s “flow.” It’s “the Zone.” Mojo builds up over time. It feeds upon itself. The more mojo…

The last two weeks we’ve been talking in these posts about buckling down and hitting a groove. By that I mean finding and achieving a steady, productive, working rhythm. Traction. Nothing gets stuff done like traction. When the rubber grips the road, we can deliver any payload. Long-range. Cross-country. Anywhere. The opposite of traction is slippage. Spinning our wheels. Starting and stopping. Sputtering. When we achieve traction, we’re actually accomplishing something. We’re shooting film, we’re filling blank pages, we’re structuring our new start-up. For the past two weeks we’ve talked about thinking in blocks of time and saying no. Thinking…

We were speaking last week about returning from a vacation and gearing up to get back in the groove. I said that my first “note to self” would be to start thinking, not in immediate go-go terms, but in longer, extended blocks of time. My second marching order to myself is to start saying no. The aim of these admonitions is to establish a realistic project timetable, to buckle down to a serious working rhythm, and to protect the air space around that timetable and that rhythm. So I’ll stop saying yes to things. First I’ll stop saying yes to…

I’m just home from two weeks’ vacation—and gearing up to get back to work. The first thing I’ll do is stop myself from thinking in terms of immediate gratification. I will make myself think, instead, in blocks of time. I will not put pressure on the first day, or even the first week. Resistance would love me to do that. Resistance knows that if I try to do too much too soon, I’ll fail. Resistance would love to see that happen. So I will remind myself that the enemy is not time. The enemy is Resistance. The wide receiver returning…