All my life I’ve written stories. I don’t know how to not have ideas and try to turn them into tales, or watch the characters in my head and try to write out whatever they’re doing. All my life people have been astounded by the fact that doing so comes so naturally to me.
All my life I’ve dismissed this, simply because it’s always been a natural and integral part of who I am and how my mind works. I’ve always just sorta shrugged and gone “I just see the pictures in my head and try to write it as well as I can” and continued on my merry way.
Lately I’ve come to realize that by doing this I’ve both given those who are amazed by it an unnecessary brush-off, and done myself a serious discredit. You see, I’ve started to (try) and write scripts. It was inevitable, really – get me involved in the indiefilm world and naturally I started to want to tell my stories in a new way – and remember stories that failed as prose because they needed to be visual. And my friends, let me tell you, it is very, very different. It’s a whole new way to tell a story – and while the act of storytelling may be in my blood, and while telling it in full prose may come as natural as a heartbeat, telling a story in script form does not.
At first I got frustrated, very quickly, every time I returned to the page. So I talked to a few people I knew who would give helpful advice, I read the books that were recommended and kept them within reach as references, and I got a couple of people to read a couple of things, and I listened to what they said, and I kept trying. And it was slow, and it was frustrating, and I was constantly erasing what I’d done because I kept finding myself trying to tell the story instead of script the action. I looked at the people who I know who are so very talented at this, and I had no idea how they did it.
At some point I stopped in the middle of writing something, because I suddenly had a thought: is this something of what those other people were seeing/thinking/feeling when they saw me storying away? I had myself a little lightbulb moment, one I really should have had a long time ago, but it took this for me to realize. It’s not easy, and too often people get far less credit than they deserve just for trying, much less those who hone their craft and become so very, very good at it.
After this, I started to get less frustrated and more willing to take the time I needed. I started having to erase less. I started enjoying the slower speed, enjoying the need to more carefully craft a scene, and the skill required to do so. Usually I go off, bashing away at the keyboard, fingers all a-blur, telling the story almost faster than I can think it. And it’s good, it works, and has a beauty all of its own, but learning to transfer storytelling over into script form has introduced me to a new kind of beauty.
Don’t get me wrong, I still get frustrated, and I still have a lot of work ahead, but I’m starting to get it – and I’m lucky enough to have people around me who can offer advice. But the point I’m making is this: some things come as naturally as breathing, but even they require lots of work if you want to be really good – it just feels a little less like work, and more like practice and enjoyment. Still, there are always ways to stretch – and no matter how good you think you are, you can always find a way to push yourself to be better.
Other things require more intensive work – work that feels more like work. It takes a little more effort to find the fun, and it’s easy to quit and go back to the thing which is easier. And hey, not everything you try is going to be something you should stick to. Sometimes you do have to step back and say “Nope, that definitely wasn’t for me”, and try something else. But it’s easy to give up too quickly – and that is the one thing I have always had right, when people express amazement at how I can write stuff. Anybody can do it. Not everybody can do it well. Most won’t try hard enough and for long enough to find out, and most of those that do will find a comfortable level and stay there, not pushing further. I didn’t want to do that, and I somehow managed to wind up surrounded by other people who never want to do that. We improve ourselves, and we help improve each other, but unless I put my own work in the same way they put theirs in, I will never be good enough to stand proudly in their company as an equal.
Don’t underestimate the value of a talented peer group. It’s hard not to feel like I’m the junior member at times, but that’s my self-doubt talking – to them, I’m already good enough. I’m just working to get there, and having fun doing it. And after all, isn’t fun the point? I almost lost that in frustration, but that frustration was caused by me trying to write a script the same way I write a story. That was wrong. They’re connected things, but very different, and though they both require the ability to tell a story, the skills required to tell that story are not the same.
I’m learning a new way to stretch myself, doing something I already love. I’m learning new ways to tell stories – and in doing so, learning how to tell them better, in any format. If I’d followed my frustration that it wasn’t immediately easy for me, I would have failed already.
What I’m saying is this: don’t let yourself give up too easily. Sure, sometimes it becomes clear that it is the right thing to do, and there are plenty of other things to go out and try if that’s the case. But if you can find the little nugget that makes you want to keep striving – don’t let it go.