On Shawn’s storygrid.com this week there was such a great piece that I’m ripping it off lock-stock-and-barrel here to share with my peeps. It’s on the subject of writing a first draft.

  A couple of friends have written in: “I know what my theme is, but I can’t figure out how to get it into my story.”

What do we mean when we say a book or a movie is “about something?” This question is a lot trickier than it seems. Did you see the movie The Break-up, starring Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughan? A facile answer regarding this film would be, “It’s about a break-up.” Wrong. The subject is a break-up. The story theme is something else entirely. The subject of the Jurassic Park movies is dinosaurs. The theme is, Don’t mess with Mother Nature. The subject of Out of Africa is Karen Blixen’s experiences in Africa. The theme is possession. “Is it possible,” the movie…

  I was talking to a friend who runs a successful Hollywood literary agency. She represents screenwriters. Before she opened her doors, she said, she spent a year doing nothing but reading scripts, searching for promising young writers. She read well over 500 screenplays. “How many,” she asked me, “do you think were worth representing?” Before I could reply, she answered. “None.” I believe her. I’ve read a boatload of screenplays and novel manuscripts myself. Many have interesting, even brilliant premises. Fascinating characters abound; there’s lots of clever dialogue, surprising plot twists, mind-blowing set-pieces. And a lot of what I…

[Don’t forget the huge savings on our Black Irish Christmas Special—the 7-Book Megabundle for Writers. Keep a couple for yourself and spread the rest around to “worthy recipients.”] When I was in my twenties one of the ways I kept body and soul together was moving furniture. The first thing that experienced movers will tell a rookie is Take the Heaviest Stuff First. Why? Because if you wait till mid-afternoon before tackling that grand piano, you’ll be so tired you won’t be able to handle the weight and the cumbersomeness. I have the same rule for writing. Attack the hardest parts…

My friend Dave wrote to me a week ago with a problem. How do we as artists and entrepreneurs transition to the next project? Dave had just turned in a manuscript. He was trying to get the next idea going. The problem was he didn’t know what that idea was going to be. For me, the transition is as pernicious a Resistance war as the previous project’s attack towards the finish line. Yes, I know we’re supposed to show up, buckle in, lace up the work boots, and “start the next one tomorrow.” [But] sometimes [we] write and write and it…

One of the questions I get asked a lot is, “How do I decide on my next project? I have so many ideas, I don’t know which one to choose.” My usual answer is, “Pick the one that scares you the most.” The reason this works is you’re using your own Resistance to guide you. Since Resistance will always be strongest in the case of the project that’s most important to the evolution of your soul, you will feel the most fear when you contemplate working on that project. Voila! That’s the one you should choose, just like an actor…

This post goes out with thanks to my friend Derick, who taught me a type of Resistance I had never thought of (or at least had never given a name to.)

We all have bad habits as writers. Here’s my worst: I have a terrible tendency to back off on the money shot. Meaning I’ll fail to maximize the drama in key scenes. I know why I do this. It’s Resistance. Fear of success. Fear of making something really kick ass. But I still do it. Even knowing this is my Bad Tendency, I still go soft on the accelerator pedal. It’s a terrible habit. Here are two examples, both from my book Killing Rommel.

People write me letters sometimes. Wannabe musicians, aspiring novelists; I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. These letters purport to be seeking counsel. The writer details his or her struggles with deciding which creative field to pursue, their frustrations with their own indecisiveness, with getting their art going, etc. Then they ask for advice. Now, there’s a good way to ask for advice. The good way is when the person is earnest, sincere; he or she can, in truth, profit from a boost of encouragement or an impartial reality check. That’s the good kind of advice-asking. But that’s not…