If the
title of this week’s rant sounds familiar, you’ve probably read or watched a
lot of how-to pieces. Y’know, the ones
that say something like “Here’s how to turn this stuff we scavenged from a
dumpster into a full wedding reception –with food—in just six simple
steps.” Or maybe it’s “Learn how to play
concert piano in four easy lessons.”
We’ve
probably all tried one of these at least once.
Okay, maybe tried the belly fat ones twice. And a few things become clear pretty
quick. If I’ve tried a few of these,
I’ve probably also noticed a few recurring issues with these steps...
1) They
still require lots of practice. Yeah,
this is easy to do—on the nineteenth try.
The first eighteen are going to be messy and somebody might die, but by
my nineteenth attempt I should be getting completely adequate results.
2) They
often require lots of other skills or equipment. Learning the ceremony is easy once you’ve
got a working knowledge of the Basque language. Yes, making these carrot roses
is no problem at all as long as I have a 1 3/4” mellonballer (not a 2”—that’ll
ruin the whole thing).
3) They’re
rarely simple. A lot of times each of
these “easy steps” ends up sounding like that guy at Comic-Con who walks up the
microphone and says “I have a five part question, but first I just want to say
how wonderful it is that all of you have come out to meet all of us, and the
positivity in this room reminds me of a poem by Emily Dickinson, which I’d like
to read a few lines from...”
4) They’re
rarely effective. In the long run, most of these “four-or-five easy steps to
accomplish something” methods just aren’t worth it. Oh, I might learn a small
trick or polish a skill, but in the end, all the money and time and frustration
wasted on trying to do it the easy way could’ve been spent on learning... well,
how to do it. If I really want to learn
how to make carrot roses that look fantastic, maybe I should actually... well,
learn how and not try to figure out some trick that’ll let me skip the learning
curve.
Oddly
enough, this kind of ties back to something I mentioned a while back. It’s a
hypothesis I came up with during my time in the film industry and, well, it’s
stood up to all my testing and research so far.
Maybe next time I write about it I’ll be able to refer to it as a
theory.
I call it
the four step rule. Pretty much
everyone’s professional career goes through four stages.
*Not
knowing what I’m doing.
*Thinking I
know what I’m doing.
*Realizing I don’t know what I’m doing.
*Knowing what I’m doing.
I don’t
remember exactly how I stumbled onto this, but it was one of those
instantly-makes-sense things. I know my film
career followed it. And just looking
around set, I could see it in all the people I worked with and where they fit
into this pattern. In fact, the more I
looked, the more I came to realize this pattern applied to almost
everything. I could see it with people
on movie sets, yeah, but also with the staff members for an online game I
worked on for a while. I have a friend
who was a police officer, and he agreed a lot of cops followed the same
pattern.
Now,
there’s an unfortunate side-effect of this.
I also noticed a few people who were pretty mediocre workers, but were
convinced they were amazing. These folks were stuck at step two because they
never had (or never acknowledged) that slap down moment. They never bothered to improve because they
never acknowledged a need to improve.
They just stayed at those early, flawed levels.
I’m sure
most of you can see that all of this applies to writing, too. When I first sat down to write a story in
third grade, every aspect of it was a mystery to me. I didn’t even know what I didn’t know. Character elements, linear and narrative
structure, dialogue —these terms meant nothing to me. Of course, once the words were typed out in
front of me, it was clear I was a genius. I mean, look at them—they’re typed!
Alas, many
editors did not agree with my assessment of those pages, and I had a good sized
stack of rejections before I had body hair.
And that file folder got thicker and thicker for many years.
I think I
was in college when I started to consider that every single editor I submitted
to might not be the problem. Maybe my
stories weren’t genius just because they were typed. Yeah, the ones I was writing at that point
had a much more elaborate vocabulary than my old ones (and I used it as often as I could), but were they really any better than the ones I’d
been writing at age eleven...?
I had dozens
and dozens of rejections under my belt, but it turned out I really didn’t know
much about writing or storytelling. All my “experience” was essentially eight
or nine years of doing all the wrong things.
I’d missed opportunities and ignored good advice because I was convinced
I knew it all.
And being able to admit that was what let me finally improve. And improving
was what let me get where I am today.
Working with other professionals who treat me like a professional. Able to offer actual advice with experience
backing it up (even if a chunk of that experience is, “wow, I screwed up a lot
back then...”).
Now, last
time I talked about these four steps, a few folks asked me if it was possible
to skip some of them—specifically, step two.
If I realize I’m at step one, can I jump right to step three? I’ve thought about this on and off, and also
heard a few things in other interviews and articles that fit into this little
outline. So I’m going to say this...
No. You cannot skip any of the steps. If I tell you that I did skip step two, it
really means I’m stuck there and in denial.
It comes
down to, as my lovely lady has called it, paying your dues. We all have to do it. We can pay our dues sooner and get it over
with or pay them later with interest. I
can get down in the gritty, sweaty, unrewarding trenches and take the long
route—doing all the work and learning how to do it. Or I can rely on nothing but luck, tricks, and gimmicks to get me there in a tenth the time—and then fall from a
much greater height when it comes out I don’t know how things are done. I’m sure we can all think of tons of
Hollywood stories of someone who shot to the top in record time, only to come
crashing all the way back down to where they started out (or even lower...).
Y’see,
Timmy, we need that screw-up stage.
It’s important. Not to sound all
new-agey or melodramatic, but it’s the crucible that burns away the screw-ups
and forges us into better writers. We go
in like iron, but we come out like steel.
If we don’t go through it, we’ll never be as good as we could be.
All that
being said... It is possible to manage
how much time you spend on step two. How do we do it?
I need to be
open to criticism. And to listen to it. Try not to be defensive. Learn how to tell valid feedback from personal preferences. Be able to admit
something isn’t good or doesn’t work like it’s supposed to. Yeah, it’ll be frustrating and disheartening
and there’s a good chance I’ll find out I spent a lot of time on something that’s
just going to go in the circular file. But
if I’m open to learning from all that—to admitting I need to improve—that’ll
speed up the learning process.
One last
thought. Joe Quesada—an
artist/writer/editor-in-chief at Marvel Comics—made a wonderful observation in
his foreword to Brian Michael Bendis’ storytelling book Words For Pictures. “If you’re not falling,
you’re not trying hard enough.” If I
don’t screw up now and then, it’s probably a good sign I’m not trying too
hard. If I never challenge myself, I’m
never going to get better.
We all need
to fail. And it’s okay to fail. The only problem is if I’m determined not to
learn from it.
Next time,
I’d like to talk to you about something you may have seen before. And
before. And before.
Until then,
go write.
Happy 325th post! *breaks out the party hats and glow-sticks* *and rum* (is it too early on a monday for drinking...?) :)
ReplyDeleteGreat post! (I think I'll have my junior Comp. class read it - they all seem to be stuck on step 2, and are CONVINCED that they don't need the smack-down. If only they could see the papers coming back to them today...)
ReplyDeleteRakie--Monday is acceptable for celebratory drinking. That's what I keep telling myself, anyway...
ReplyDeleteNeil--Yeah, I don't think it's a complete coincidence that a lot of my step two/I know everything years seem to overlap with high school and college. I hope your students wise up faster than I did. :)