On Writing

I forget sometimes that I only discovered I wanted to be a writer, like, less than a year ago. I mean I think on some level I've been a writer my whole life. But to be the sort of person who wants to make that their career? That's a recent epiphany.


I forget this sometimes and have big freakout moments where I hold myself accountable to incredibly high standards that I shouldn't. Or maybe I should because standards motivate. Then again, standards can also do the opposite -- they can inspire fear. I hadn't written pages in Final Draft, like actually screenwriting pages, in months. Which is bad when it's what you hope to make a career of.


So this weekend, after what felt like a lifetime of procrastination, I finally started to write.


And write.


By the time I closed down my laptop I had 25 pages, so less than 10 short of a completed first draft of a pilot (a half-hour, obviously). I don't think the writing is any good and there's no way I'm going to let a soul check it out until I give it another complete pass. But still, that felt good. Shit, just writing two pages a day feels good!


It was a good reminder that if I want to be a writer, if anyone wants to be a writer, then you need to write as much as possible. I used to think blogging was enough but now I see that I need to be working on scenes and sketches and jokes just as much, if not more, than the sort of day-to-day projects I'm already working on.


I'll get there. Eventually...