Every Tuesday I write a resource article like this one.
For over a year I’ve written an essay on creativity like this one.
I’ve published and shared over 50 essays like this one.

Well… like this one is supposed to be.

Today, this essay is just not coming together. I’ve started and restarted, typed and deleted, tried and tried again. Each time, it ended in an essay that was incoherent and bland. An essay I wasn’t proud of and didn’t want to share.

Eventually we got to where I am right now—swimming in a pile of mediocre essays and feeling like a big ol’ pile of failure.

I try to always email these essays to my subscribers at the same time, around 10–11am EST. It’s now past 1pm, and here I am still writing, still not knowing where I’m going with this essay at all.

I thought about quitting and just sending a nice note, with no essay this week. “I deserve a break, right?”

I thought about giving up and not emailing you guys at all this week. “Would they even notice?”

I thought about how many more essays I would have to write until I found something good. “Will I ever write something good again?”

“The truth is, when failure’s not an option, we have a bunch of scared people hanging around, loitering on the outside of the arena. You know, the bottom line is if you’re going to go into the arena, you’re going to get your butt kicked.”
–Brene Brown, researcher + writer

And then it dawned on me. This is it. What I’m doing at this exact moment. This is my essay: Failure. I’m trying to make something, and I’m failing. I’m trying to write about bravery and courage, creativity and dedication, but I’m over here just flat out failing. That’s what I should write. That’s what I should share.

So:

Hello, this is your good pal Christine, and I am currently failing. Welcome to my failure-of-an-essay.

Hm. You know what? After I just did that — after I realized I was failing, after I acknowledged I was struggling, after I decided to accept my failure as an option instead of squashing it down — I feel a lot better now.

Hello! This is Christine, and I am currently failing!

Isn’t it wonderful? I’m here and I’m writing and…wait a minute. If I’ve accepted my failure and have begun to embrace my failure… is it really failure anymore?

If I’m here in the arena, doing the work, accepting the failure, pushing through, and putting it out there anyway… am I still failing?

“If we’re going to find our way back to each other, vulnerability is going to be that path. And I know it’s seductive to stand outside the arena ’cause I think I did it my whole life and think to myself, I’m going to go in there and kick some ass when I’m bulletproof and when I’m perfect. And that is seductive. But the truth is, that never happens. And even if you got as perfect as you could and as bulletproof as you could possibly muster, when you got in there that’s not what we want to see. We want you to go in. We want to be with you and across from you.”
–Brene Brown, researcher + writer

Well guys, here I am in all my glorious failure. I can’t wait until I’m bulletproof. Today, this essay just ain’t gonna be perfect. But I’m barging into the arena anyway, and sharing it with you.

I get a lot of emails and messages from you guys thanking me for helping you get over your fears, find new confidence, and make more art. But I want to take a minute to thank you guys. Because having you here in the arena with me, reading these essays, and listening to me blabber on about creativity and art making — you guys have made me be a more vulnerable and open person and for that I am truly grateful.

I have all the same issues you do. I fail. I make mistakes. I close myself off. I have guilt. I have shame. I get overwhelmed and exhausted all the time. I fail a lot. I’m quite bad at most things I do — I’ve been snowboarding for 5+ years and I still can’t turn left! I am far from perfect.

But I go in.

I keep coming back and trying again and again.

And I try to learn from it when I fail. Sometimes I learn an important lesson, and sometimes I learn I just need to take a break.

Today I learned that it’s important to be vulnerable and let failure be an option sometimes. So I wanted to share this failure with you, instead of glossing over it or pretending like I had another plan all along and acting like I have everything together. Because I don’t. I’ve been on a pretty good streak lately. But today, I failed.

And that’s ok. Because it means I was here. It means I tried.

This time I got a little more beat up in the arena than usual, but I’m still here, I learned a lesson, and I’m ready to try again.

So next time you feel like a failure, just remember: you’re not the only one. I’m over here failing with you, and we’re in this together.

Thanks for being here in the arena with me.

This is What Failure Looks Like was originally published in Be Yourself on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I clicked to the next page and to my surprise and sadness, the book ended.

I can’t remember the last time I finished a book so fast. It’s not that I don’t read. It’s that this book was so engaging and interesting that I didn’t want it to end. I felt like a crack addict realizing his stash was gone, screaming for more into the boarded-up windows of an abandoned warehouse.

But alas, my addiction was more mundane. I’m obsessed with other people’s creative routines. The book I was reading, Daily Rituals: How Artists Work, narrated the routines of some of the great iconoclasts of creativity. When the book ended, I felt like all my friends were gone. When I finished the last interview, it was like the last guest had left my dinner party. A stimulating dinner party where all we talked about was creativity.

From Benjamin Franklin to Mozart. From Faulkner to Franz Kafka. From Capote to Déscartes to Tchaikovsky. You name them, they’re in there.

I’m obsessed with morning routines, so I found it fascinating to learn the daily rituals of great creatives throughout history. Although these creatives had different disciplines and their work spanned centuries, two things revealed themselves as the common thread throughout.

1. Make Time for Creativity

The thing about time is that it’s always slipping away. This second passing by while you read this sentence? Gone.

We’re perpetually in the now, but some people never take the time to make something of it.

If Mel Brooks would have clung to the constant excuse of “never having enough time,” I wouldn’t have that hilarious Youtube clip to distract you from the fact that if you don’t make time for creativity, time will take you away and you’ll die.

That’s what the creatives in Daily Rituals did. They made time for their work. Even if they hated every minute of it, they felt the urge to make the time to create before it was too late.

Like Bernand Malamud said in the last profile in the book,

“There’s no one way — there’s too much drivel about this subject. You’re who you are, not Fitzgerald or Thomas Wolfe. You write by sitting down and writing. There’s no particular time or place — you suit yourself, your nature. How one works, assuming he’s disciplined, doesn’t matter…The trick is to make time — not steal it…”

Your particular creative habits don’t matter as long as you make the time to do them. I’m writing this before dawn, which is when I do all my usual writing. I write in my gym clothes or pajamas before my wife gets up. I need complete silence and I get cranky when question like “did you make coffee?” or “How did you sleep? What are you doing today?” interrupt my flow.

The nerve of such niceties!

Jokes aside, you don’t even have to get out of bed if you can get away with it. Voltaire certainly didn’t. He spent his mornings in bed, where he would dictate his work to his secretaries. He didn’t get dressed until noon! And for some reason, I’m ashamed I don’t look like a failed GQ model while writing my articles. Who cares!

It’s not about finding time. It’s about taking it back and making it work for you. Whatever time of day is irrelevant as long as you use it to create without distraction.

The second thread I found throughout Daily Rituals is a comforting one.

2. Constant Quantity, However Little

Many great creatives throughout history have huge outputs. Thousands of words per day without fail. Libraries of books all by themselves.

Lope de Vega wrote over 2,000 plays during his lifetime. Enid Blyton wrote close to 800 children’s books. R.L. Stine has written hundreds of stories and he continues to give teenagers goosebumps. Although not profiled in Daily Rituals, the productivity of these authors deserve praise.

Yet, many creatives came nowhere near that type of output but received the same accolades for their work. Many creatives would be happy with 500–1,000 words per day to feel productive. Margaret Mead tried to write one thousand words before breakfast. A good working day to P.G. Wodehouse was about the same. At the lower end of the scale, William Styron would only achieve a few hundred words a day. In the later parts of his career, Graham Greene was happy with only two hundred words.

It’s not the one-time burst of output that’s important. It’s the constant quantity that creates great work. If you write a beautiful, 5,000-word essay in a burst of inspiration, congratulations. You have an essay. If you write 500 words every weekday for 10 years, you have a career.

Your Move

The only thing that all these creatives had in common was simple. They created things from nothing. They made time for a solid few hours of work that yielded constant creative output over time. It’s not romantic and sexy. It’s simple and boring.

The art can be genre-breaking opuses. But the work is a chore, scheduled to be finished.

Some of these creatives, after slashing an X through their proverbial calendar every day, would go on reflective walks. They would socialize with friends, or decompress. Some of them would get fucked up on drugs and alcohol. But, all would return the next day to do it all over again.

So your move to keep creating is simple. Make the time to create. During that time, you must focus on the work.

Find an easy goal to start with and then stretch it over time. Do 1,000 words sound exhausting to you? Then start with 250.

Don’t have three hours to spend on your art? Then start with one.

250 words in one hour. Start there. That’s barely a page. You can write one page.

Also, if you’re not a writer, you’re not off the hook.

If you’re a painter, then stand in front of the canvas for an hour without putting down your brushes.

If you’re a musician then pick up the instrument and write new songs.

If you’re a programmer, then write code for an hour.

Whatever it is you want to create, make the time and create a reachable goal you know you can commit to.

It’s not easy. But it is simple.

Two Simple Lessons From Famous Artists on How to Be More Creative was originally published in Better Humans on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

As a playwright, I spend most of my time putting words into the mouths of others. I also write poetry, short stories, and essays/articles like this, which helps me NOT go crazy while I wait to find out if/when my words will actually get said. My inspiration has evolved over the years to include creative sources I never even knew I’d have access to (yay, life is so weird!) but the uniting force behind all of my writing has always been: I write because I have something to say.

I know, I know — big whoop-de-doo, right? I mean, isn’t that true of every writer? But there’s a second piece of the “Why we write” puzzle that’s just as important — maybe more important — than just having something to say.

It’s the belief that your voice deserves to be heard.

I mean, try saying this out loud: I have something to say and I believe that my voice deserves to be heard.

Woof.

For some of you, that declaration of confidence and worthiness probably feels downright scary. Hell, I’ve been writing my whole life, and yet I wasn’t able to make this declaration with any sort of confidence until very recently.

I’ve always written. When I was young, it was poems and short stories with badly drawn illustrations. Some of those early poems got published, exposing me to the writer’s high, which I am quite certain helped fuel my desire to pursue this madness as a career.

Of course, as is common with writers, I didn’t immediately jump in with both feet. I originally thought I’d pursue acting while writing my weird little poems on the side. Once I had won my Best Actress Oscar, I’d let it slip that I had an extensive collection of eclectic poetry, so of course it would get published and be an instant bestseller, and doesn’t that all sound just convenient AF?

Instead, after studying my actress tail off (and then working it down to a nub), I realized I was NOT the right combination of talent/chutzpah to make it as an actor in Hollywood. Cue alligator tears and long nights of heavy drinking. Strangely though, right around the time I was having this “OMG, if my dream of becoming an actor stinks this bad, then what am I going to do?” crisis , I remembered how much I liked writing. So I took a playwriting class, and BAM, it was like I had finally found where I belong.

I’ve learned a lot since then. I’ve written a number of crazy plays, had a few productions, started my own theatre company and produced countless festivals. I also teach part time at the college level, which means I get to wear a very fun sounding “ Professor of Practice” title —but really it only means that I’m a busy AF artist who also teaches. Yet, in spite of all this, it’s only recently that I’ve felt able to declare myself A Writer (much less An Artist) without needing to murmur something about “keeping my day job” afterwards.

Sadly, I can’t say this turnabout in confident self-declaration came as the result of selling a novel or getting my play on Broadway (Not yet, anyway! Fingers crossed, people!)

No, I was only able to proclaim myself A Writer and long suffering Artist, once I’d given literal birth to a real-life squawling bundle of NEED.

Two years ago, my body baked up a tiny, adorable, amazing little human with just the right amount of curiosity and imagination. Then my body gifted him a stubborn streak to rival my own, and decided to unleash him upon the world a few weeks early because, fuck it — schedules are for chumps. This adorable, helpless little mini-me proceeded to absorb ALL of my time — which was totally natural and normal of him to do—but holy shit, was I unprepared! I was completely blind-sided by the incredible loss of self that accompanied motherhood, and the accumulated weight of giving my all to my babe, wore on and on and on until I was reduced to a sort of wraith.

The lack of restorative and creative time, coupled with the all-consuming job of being a parent whose partner was almost always at work, led me to the brink of absolute break-down. Ten months after giving birth, and approximately two weeks before Thanksgiving, I told my husband that if I didn’t make some art soon — even if it stank to high-heaven — he would be checking me into a mental institution, because I was an ARTIST, goddamnit! Not the angry 24–7 milk-machine/diaper-wrangling/mess-of-a-human being I’d become.

It was the first time I’d forcefully declared myself an artist. It left me breathless, but as soon as it was out of my mouth, I knew it was true as fuck, and that I’d been an idiot to be afraid of claiming the title before then.

My husband — awesome fellow-artist man that he is— was like, “Okay.” We then spent a large chunk of our Thanksgiving prepping to shoot a short film I had written. We were both exhausted. But I was writing, I was directing, I was bringing something to fruition — it was MAGIC!

And I was doing it all with a baby on my hip.

It was the best I’d felt in months, and even though it took forever to edit the damn thing, I felt the creative tide coming back to me.

I haven’t been afraid of declaring myself a writer or an artist since.

Don’t get me wrong — I love being a mom. But it is (as many people annoyingly like to quip) the hardest job I’ve ever had, because who I was pre-baby is constantly in competition with who I am now.

I used to be a bit of a lazy writer, who was afraid to declare herself an artist, and I also spent a lot of time waiting for my muse to strike instead of chasing that bitch down and putting her to work like a boss.

Now, I am a ridiculously busy writer-professor-mom, who feels no shame whatsoever in identifying myself as an artist, and I spend a lot of time plotting all the art I need to make so that when the toddler naps or my husband is home, I can get to work making the magic happen in whatever brief window of time I have.

Because time, which was once plenty, is now scant as fuck.

So, all the things that I want to say? They spend the day brawling inside the gladiator ring in my brain. Only those left standing after a morning of making snacks, potty training, grading papers, and reading the same toddler book 10 times in a row, get any real attention.

Somehow, in the midst of all of this mom-ing, I’ve become a much more confident, stream-lined, and productive, writer.

So what does all this personal epiphany bullshit have to do with the original question I posed?

Well, I think the reason I write is multi-fold (hence the length of this article). But it’s also as simple and as complicated as this: I have to write.

If I’m not writing, I go crazy. I’m miserable. I’m angry. I’m resentful. I feel stifled and lost and completely adrift in the world, even when the rest of my life is making sense.

And being a writer means I’m engaged with the world. It means I’m serious about my observer status here on earth. It means maintaining my universal passport for exploring the human condition and staying committed to translating my observations into language that invites conversation and engagement. It means I’m all in with this existence, even when being all-in is the most painful option.

Because at the crux of this need to write, is a driving desire to speak with the world.

*Note, I said speak with, not to.

I’m a communicator. I write plays, because I crave dialogue. I am a fervent believer in the productive exchange of ideas. And so, I put pen to my imagination and type out the things I need to say, and then I send it out into the world with the belief that my work can be part of a conversation because my voice deserves to be heard.

The world may/may not talk back, but I have too many thoughts in my head — ridiculous, fantastical, terrifying, analytical, philosophical, and on-and-on-forever- things — to try and keep them all to myself.

And yes, I do feel most successful as a writer when my work finds an audience, but sometimes just the act of writing is enough to make my soul feel less fraught.

And it’s weird, to be a mother in this world and have to say: Yes, I love my child. I love my husband. I am immensely grateful that I get to share this world with such amazing humans as they are! But I am not fulfilled as a human unless I am also writing and making art.

Because non-artists tend to think you’re a bit odd if you’re still chasing creative dreams whilst bouncing a baby and trying to balance your checkbook at the ripe old age of… well, you get the picture.

But writing helps me make sense of the world. It helps me connect with, and feel like I’m a part of, this giant, crazy-ass, existence.

I guess I could say that writing keeps me human.

And believe me, I’m so much more fun to be around when I’m human.

This article discusses the topic of the couplet formation in novel writing used by today’s modern commercial-fiction writers. This is referred to as a form for writing.

Overview __

Modern commercial fiction writers often employ this technique in their writing. If used effectively, it can give your own writing a very powerful narrative voice, structure, and pattern.

Body __

So let’s begin. A simple question is what is the couplet formation? As in the movie the Matrix, it would be better to show you rather than write some long, voluminous explanation.

Let’s look at a few sentences.

#1

Rianna Piper watched Carlson step out from behind the rock outcropping, unsure why his body language made her certain he wanted to die.

Examination __

#1 is what we will call the couplet formation.

The couplet formation, defined, is scene action (SA) combined with explicit narration (EP). Later, I will explain a more technical definition with the words mimesis and diegesis.

For now, we have clear scene action (SA). We can examine this further: Rianna does something that is important for us to read. If you listen to an audiobook version, you will notice how important SA is too, because it makes clear the interaction.

Let me put you in the correct visual frame of mind. Think how a sports car meets the road with its tyres. The chrome rims, the wheels, touching the black asphalt on a vertical axis facing red rock mountains.

Now, we visualise Rianna’s face as she interacts with her environment and watches Carlson’s activity.

Rianna watched Carlson…

This is what is called SA. The -ed form of the verb is fine; although, the verb can be in the present tense; the simple past is okay, too. Since, it still accomplishes an effect called mimesis.

Mimesis, for our definition, means that enough expository information is communicated through the verb tense to show us that this is a recent action.

It is not necessary to write: Rianna [watches] Carlson step out from behind the rock outcropping, unsure why his body language [makes] her certain that he wants to die.

From the writing, we get a clear sense that the action has just occurred and finished, from the simple past. And most modern fiction is written this way, too.

[Do you remember what a mime is? Mimesis is language borrowed from screenwriting. In a screenplay we are taught to “mimic” real-life. How do we do this? We use the simple past, because a screenplay is to “read the way it is seen onscreen, as it happens.”]

Good. Now, let’s look at another couplet formation, which can really help your technique in your own fiction writing.

#2

Instead of ducking like the others, Carlson moved forward. Into the gap between rocks, in full view of the massive silver sphere. He may as well have been hands to hips like a gunslinger.

EXAMINATION __

The verb structure is similar here too, with the present tense verb “may.” But it is closer to a pure couplet formation. The purpose of this article is not to lecture you on what the exact form is, but to show you examples, so you can practice on your own.

Let’s compare example #1 and #2.

Rianna Piper watched Carlson step out from behind the rock outcropping, [Rianna was] unsure why his body language made her certain he wanted to die.

***

Instead of ducking like the others, Carlson moved forward. Into the gap between rocks, in full view of the massive silver sphere. He may as well have been hands to hips like a gunslinger.

If this article said, write it this way, and only this way; it would limit your creativity in writing. What this article is truly about is insight, showing you a powerful tool that you can use to structure your writing.

Let’s look more closely at example #2.

We start again with the basis of the couplet formation. The basis is mimesis.

Quick expository information using the present tense form of a verb (sometimes), or the simple past, to show that an immediate scene action has just taken place.

Mimesis is our attempt to show (not tell) real-life through words. To use verbs in such a way as to animate the visual cortex, so we see the events unfold in our mind’s eye. Or to evoke a sensation in us of watching a movie.

Carlson moved forward. (Mimesis.)

We’ll skip the part; Into the gap between rocks, in full view of the massive silver sphere.

That sentence is really a fragment and a part of the first sentence. The author cut it into two sentences to make it read in a much more dramatic way. I agree with the author’s choice here. It helps in creating an effect.

He may as well have been hands to hips like a gunslinger.

The couplet formation is complete. Although, we do have present tense “may,” this is not mimesis. It’s diegesis.

Whoa! You might say. Why all these fancy words? It’s really easy actually. There only two main words to be familiar with. We want to make those two terms clear to you.

Remember the yin and yang logo? One thing becomes the other, but it has it’s own identity and character, but the black part or the white part can quickly flow into and become it’s opposite.

Another way for me to imagine this phenomena is to think of a dialectical format. Like the logo, the thesis struggles in constant fluid conflict with the antithesis. The antithesis might overwhelm the thesis and then it becomes the thesis, and the old thesis becomes its antithesis.

And, since the old thesis had elements that were not completely wrong (based on whatever criterion we use) the new thesis risks becoming overthrown by its new antithesis, the old thesis.

I do not use synthesis in this model. It’s easier to just think of it as yin and yang. In that model, one thing contains elements of the other; so it is similar, but it is also discrete and separate, hence the black fluid area, and the white fluid area, and then each containing a dot of the pigment of the other one, to signify that although they are unique; there are ways in which they are similar too.

To finish the article, let’s have a working understanding of what diegesis is. Diegesis refers to straight narrative. Since these terms sound very similar, we’ll look at it in this way.

Scene action is when a character(s) interacts with objects, people, things in a scene. A component of scene action is dialogue. So we can put dialogue on a plane of a graph, if we were diagramming, Scene Action/ Dialogue.

The way in a novel this is communicated to us, or in a screenplay, is by use of quick expository tags. These take the forms shown to you. The -ed form or simple past, the most common form, and the present tense form.

Again, this is referred to as mimesis. Diegesis is in the voice of a narrator. It often takes the passive form. But as in the earlier examples, it is not limited to the passive voice.

Diegesis is like the god-narrator. The person who has omniscient view and is the raconteur. Since this is what we call explicit narration (EP); it is not scene action/ dialogue, and therefore is not mimesis.

Okay, now if you have these ideas and terms clear in your head, then you can see the sentence in a new way. I’ve called this writing technique the couplet formation. Couplet as you know means “two.” Let’s look at the entire sentence again.

Remember the yin and yang.

#2

Instead of ducking like the others, Carlson moved forward. Into the gap between rocks, in full view of the massive silver sphere. He may as well have been hands to hips like a gunslinger.

The couplet formation is mimesis coupled with diegesis. This effect gives more meaning and depth to a character and their motivations.

We see, in our mind’s eye, Carlson moves forward and exposes himself to a threat (the alien creature’s silver sphere). But how does Carlson do it and why? Well, we get the hint from the pattern of the form.

He may as well have been a hands to hip like a gunslinger.

Notice, when using diegesis, we are “describing” the quality of something. Carlson in this passage is not an actual gunslinger, but in using a simile, he is like one.

The author is telling us that Carlson is either a show-off, brave, foolhardy or crazy. The author has used another couplet formation to make this more clear. Now, it’s shown to you again; example #1.

Rianna Piper watched Carlson step out from behind the rock outcropping, unsure why his body language made her certain he wanted to die.

Rianna watched (mimesis); she interacts with her environment, we get the play-by-play like watching a sport’s match.

Then the author gives us more detail to explain what Rianna is feeling. This is explicit narration; diegesis.

[Rianna was] unsure why his body language made her certain he wanted to die.

A clue to that, if you disagree, is to ask a simple question: Does Rianna interact with her environment in that sentence part? unsure why his body language made her certain he wanted to die.

The answer is a no. She is having an internal feeling or thought. This falls under diegesis. If something nags at you, it’s okay. If you recall, the thesis always contains some of the antithesis, and vice versa, as in the yin and yang model.

But let’s look at some other examples of diegesis. Which is called explicit narration.

Mr. Jones was safely out of the way.

What do you think? Clearly he is not interacting with his environment. We are just being told something, and it’s in the passive voice, too.

If you said, “diegesis” or EP, then you are correct. Let’s look at a few more.

Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes.

Before I tell you what this is; Why not take a look for yourself and decide what you think? I will throw out another example, then I will give you the explanation in a moment.

As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm buildings.

Are you done yet? You can take more time. Stop here if you wish to. I will post one more example and then I will give out the answers.

With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

I will now give you the answer and explanation. I will re-post the passage.

(*Credit to George Orwell’s Animal Farm, 1945, which is in the public domain, also falls under fair use for the United States.)

Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes.

If you said, “diegesis,” then you are correct. Some of you might wonder why it’s not mimesis or SA.

“But, he interacts with the environment,” you might have said, so it belongs under the rubric of SA. Here, he, Mr. Jones, did interact with the environment, but it is not scene action.

A narrator is describing from his perch of omniscience, something that occurred in the past. The use of the verb forms with “had” and “was” clearly tell us that this was not a recent or immediate event. Or, at the very least, we are not to interpret the timing to be recent enough to make it important to the reading of the story.

If it was important, then the author, George Orwell, would have used mimesis. This is not just an academic exercise; these examples are presented to you, so you can make these decisions in your own head, while writing.

You may choose to write in a much more immediate, gripping fashion, or you might want the audience to have a sense that someone is reflecting on something in the past; something relevant to them now, but not immediate.

Let’s look at George’s possible choice here. You can stop now and rewrite it as scene action. It will only take you a moment. I will give out another example, then give you an explanation.

The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud.

Above, it is clearly scene action or SA. This is mimesis, the mimicking of real-life with words. Our signals are clear with the verbs perched, fluttered up, lay down, began.

The last major point of discussion in this article is presented. Working within a past scene, made through diegesis. The sentence above is relevant to that final point.

Did you complete the rewriting of the sentence from diegesis to mimesis? If you decided to, it will help you become a better writer. Let’s look at another choice for Georgie boy.

The original sentence using diegesis or EP.

Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes.

Here is a choice, if he had wanted it to be clear as scene action.

Mr. Jones of the Manor Farm, locked the hen-houses for the night. But he forgot to shut the pop-holes because he was very drunk.

This is where I have a smirk on my face. Have you noticed the couplet formation here? I wanted to write it with SA, and I did, but I also wrote it with diegesis. What you see now is the couplet formation.

Do you agree how powerful this form is? Let’s look at how weak the passage is without it. This is pure SA.

Mr. Jones of Manor Farm, locked the hen-houses, but he forgot to shut the pop-holes.

The sentence above is quick, sharp, and gripping. It conveys the unfolding action. But if we want to give more meaning; if we want to signal to the reader that there is more depth that they should pay attention to, then we use the couplet formation.

Let’s review what the couplet formation is again. It follows the form of mimesis and then diegesis. Verb forms should clearly signal each, and the question of; Is the character interacting with their environment?

Mr. Jones of Manor Farm, locked the hen-houses, and feeling very drunk, had forgotten to shut the pop-holes.

A quick question: What if I write in reverse?

You can write the couplet in reverse, but the effect may be different in a subtle way. We recommend you experiment. When you write a reverse couplet formation, it has that narrator-effect. Again, it comes off as diegesis.

Mr. Jones of Manor Farm, was very drunk the night he locked the hen-houses, and having forgotten to shut the pop-holes, went off to bed.

We have the verb “locked” but because of its position in the sentence. The effect is not mimesis; it’s diegesis. That’s okay, but the point of this article is to make you aware of a difference.

If you don’t want it written that way, then, again, you can use the couplet formation.

Mr. Jones of Manor Farm, locked up the hen-houses. He scratched his head, not remembering to shut the pop-holes as he was very drunk that night. Instead, he lurched forward by the light of his lantern and went into his house to sleep.

Final Part __ Working within a scene

These last examples demonstrate that scene action can be contained within a scene from the past. That is, a scene that is clearly told by diegesis, but the action is immediate in that scene, so it becomes scene action.

Can you identify which part is “working within the scene?”, and thus is scene action?

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

In this passage, Animal Farm begins. We know from the verbs “had” and “was” that we are being narrated a story. Then, Orwell wants us to know that action occurs in the narration. Have you seen it?

he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery

We’re about done. If I might, can you see the last couplet formation here? It’s important too. I will give you a moment by showing you first a passage that uses exposition through dialogue; I want to explain, quickly, the two types of dialogue.

“Now, comrades, what is the nature of this life of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England knows the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is free. The life of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth.

“But is this simply part of the order of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent life to those who dwell upon it?…”

Above, is a speech in the beginning of Animal Farm, made by Old Major. Dialogue is pure SA. It is immediate and of direct relevance to the reader.

But sometimes narration occurs through dialogue, this happens in this speech. Not all dialogue is immediate. “Get out of the way!” “Move it!” or “Watch out!” Clearly, that type of dialogue is immediate and is not designed for narration, but all dialogue, for our purposes, is part of SA.

Here is an example of pure SA. It’s for the sake of humour. Perhaps, you might guess what movie I’m hinting at?

He turned his head, saw the massive thing out of the corner of his eye, and whipped his head around facing the sea captain. “You’re going to need a bigger boat,” said Brody.

If we wanted to make it clear it was within a scene, far in the past. We could set up a reverse couplet formation.

Having been searching for the killer shark for weeks, the boat hugged the coast. It was bright morning and Brody could just see something massive pop it’s head out after he finished throwing in the chum. JAWS! He turned his head, saw the massive thing out of the corner of his eye, he whipped his head around facing the sea captain. “You’re going to need a bigger boat,” said Brody.

It is beyond the scope of this article, but will be explained in another of this series. The reverse couplet formation works quite well for a paradigm called framing devices.

Character Framing Devices, so too, fit into that paradigm. This form is very helpful in drafting characters for your audience to read. Again, this will be covered in another article.

The last couplet formation is presented. First, I will re-post the passage, then I will point out the final couplet formation.

Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the pop-holes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

Do you see it? The couplet formation is presented below.

made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.

You can also just group that with other SA verbs. But it’s important to see how Orwell’s writing gains depth and detail with the couplet form.

What if we did not use this pattern? What would happen?

If you never use the couplet formation, then your writing could come off on one extreme, like a screenplay, as very quick but not a lot of depth or meaning. On the other extreme it seems like all set up and exposition.

Major’s speech is a good example of the extreme for narration and exposition. Let’s look at the extreme for the other part, only SA.

This passage, I’ve written, is based on a scene from Platoon (1986). Elias, is the character played by Wilem Dafoe.

Elias threw down the empty cartridge and quickly put in a new clip. Constantly, he fired into the bushes at his enemy. Sweat trickled down his cheek. He listened, heard something, raised his M-16 and fired burst after burst. His gun clicked empty. Just then, he heard rustling leaves, his eyes bulged wide. The Viet Cong sapper lunged forward out of the shadow of leaves, thrusted forward a long curved knife.

In the example above, we are not given much of a chance to breathe. Let’s write it in the couplet formation.

Elias threw down his empty cartridge and quickly put in a new clip. He fired burst after burst into the bushes at his unseen enemy. The Viet Cong, he knew were all too clever. Charlie never gave up. Never turn your back until you’re sure he’s dead, Elias felt. But, his gun clicked empty. Just then, Elias eyes bulged wide. It was the Viet Cong sapper he was trying to kill. He emerged from the bushes, lurched forward, thrusting his curved knife at Elias’ neck.

The second choice slows down the action. It gives more significance and meaning to “Charlie” as a menace, and how Elias feels about his enemy.

In the rewrite above, Elias is not just some automaton, killing machine, without purpose. It’s clear that Elias is motivated to kill his enemy because he respects how ferocious and determined Charlie is to kill him.

This gives a powerful motive of survival to Elias. As a character, we understand Elias more and have the proper context and meaning to understand why he is firing burst after burst. Without that context, it’s just an action scene, which is fine, but we lose a lot of the depth and meaning.

We do not say that this paragraph is better than the other. It’s only to show you your choices and how they can affect your writing and even make it better.

Why not take any book you see that you like; or read on your phone; that is fiction and try this out? Read the first paragraph, and see if the author uses this pattern.

Summary __

In this article, we discussed a form in writing called the couplet formation. We have identified this form in relation to terms called mimesis, or scene action; and diegesis, or explicit narration. And working definitions of the two have been provided.

Examples were shown to demonstrate the difference between the two types, mimesis and diegesis, and examples of how they work together when writing a couplet formation.

In a future article, we will discuss what we label as a reverse couplet formation. (Of course, it is a couplet formation, plainly, but it is different from this version, so the qualifier reverse is added.)

In that article, we will discuss how that form is useful in writing for what we call framing devices and character framing devices.

One author in particular, Stephen King, uses framing devices as a key component in his stories. We will explore some of his work and how he uses this technique in a future article.

Thank you for reading this article. If you liked what you’ve read, and want to see more articles, please add claps below. All the best to you and keep on writing!

Does the fear of falling short of perfection stop you from achieving your writing goals? If so, I invite you to consider the humble typo.

Typos are kind of my specialty — there’s usually at least one in every piece I finish, whether I am eventually made privy to it or not. It used to really get me down. How can I be thought of as a REAL writer when I put out sloppy work? I’d mentally beat myself up for having the audacity to share a product that wasn’t 100 percent pristine.

Where did this sense of failure linked with lack of perfectionism come from? My guess is it stems from a fear of others’ opinions. Visit any social media site and you’ll see strings of conversations of people calling each other idiots because someone typed “your” instead of “you’re”. Sometimes it’s as a result of autocorrect (that evil genius) and sometimes it’s poor grammar. Either way, people get skewered for using the incorrect form, the implication being that the poster is stupid or uneducated for making a mistake. Their argument or point of view is immediately dismissed because they’ve been “found out”, and they can’t possibly be taken seriously because they don’t know the difference between homophones like “there” and “their” (they probably do, but they were riled up or autocorrected or just hit the wrong keys because the part of their brain responsible for catching errors was on autopilot).

For writers, the sense of shame at making an error is greater than for a person of a different profession. Does anyone really care if an engineer writes “flea” instead of “flee”, or accidentally leaves out a word or spells something wrong? Probably not (though if it’s on social media, the person WILL be shamed for it), because they don’t write prose for a living. But a writer is supposed to be an expert in the field! How dare that writer make a mistake!

The problem for writers is their work is on display for everyone, scrutinized by millions of pairs of eyes. If an engineer makes a mathematical mistake, it’s likely only the people in his or her department will see it. It’s not as though the engineer is publishing equations on a public forum, where mathematical geniuses and laymen alike are poring over it.

Writers put themselves out there, where scrutiny is part of the territory. This can be terrifying.

If you are one of those people afraid to share your work for fear of falling short of perfection, please consider this: for writers, the typo is not a sign of laziness or ineptitude. It’s a sign that your brain is trying to help you out. It knows what you meant when you incorrectly typed “here” instead of “hear”, so the comprehension part of your brain fixes it for you: “We shan’t bother that other part of the brain with this fiddly little mistake. It’s busy looking at content!” (Apparently the comprehension part of my brain wears a monocle while twirling a fat cigar between thumb and forefinger).

If you’re a writer and you make mistakes, it’s not because you’re stupid or lazy. It’s because you’re human. Yes, you should try to catch all your typos and editing mistakes before you post. Read over your work several times before sharing it, and take a break before hitting “publish”. But don’t beat yourself up when you find the inevitable typo (or when a kind soul reaches out, hopefully in a private message, and points one out so you can fix it).

Keep putting yourself out there. What you have to say matters — if not to the whole world, then at least to one person. Lay your soul bare: it’s one of the bravest things you can do. And don’t let anything — even a fear of typos — stop you.

To become a better writer, you must read often; everyone who aspires to write well has heard this before. Without further instructions, however, a budding writer can find themselves feeling lost as to what kind of reading will lead to superior writing. As someone who could take up reading for a living if only it paid well, I believe I have a formula to help you read with purpose so that you can write better. You must devote equal time to reading books that challenge your existing trove of knowledge while also strengthening your area of expertise; you must read with a critical eye for the structure of each story as well as the road map of the plot; you must learn from the presentation of the characters in each story and the way they develop or advance the action. Devotion to this purposeful method of reading is the next best thing to having a personal mentor in narratives and composition at your elbow each time you sit down to write.

Your reading choices are important if you wish to be a better writer. If you wish to be an author of young adult novels, read broad and deep in that genre from all its top authors. Make time for the novels that will help you write better in your genre of choice; you might love science fiction adventures, but keep in mind that they will not help you write better if you wish to publish a non-fiction book! Select books that expand upon your existing knowledge in your area of expertise; if a new book is released presenting a fresh perspective on a topic which you know in detail, do not miss the chance to learn more! Likewise, if there is a genre or topic which you know nothing about, but which interests you a great deal, do not miss the opportunity to read more about that topic. You never know what might emerge as the missing piece of information you needed to complete your perspective and help you publish your first hit novel.

If you are a bookworm like me, it is commonplace to inhale an entire novel in the span of a weekend and walk away on the other side suffering from what I like to call a hangover induced by binge reading. You could not put that book down, but did you learn anything from it while you read? Chances are you did not, and that is unfortunate indeed! If reading is your escape, don’t ruin it every time you sit down by trying to analyze the structure of the plot or the road map of the story, but start setting aside a little reading time to do just that. Perhaps you could go back and read your favorite book with a critical eye for details you might have missed before. What about the way the story unfolded made it so unputdownable? In your opinion, what are the most masterful attributes of the plot? Start keeping a journal of the things you observe in the writing of others that make their stories engaging and appealing, and when you sit down to write your own novel let them be your guide.

Characters can make or break a story; all writers know this to be true. Think of your favorite book and ask yourself why it is your favorite. Chances are it is because there was a character in that book that you found intriguing or relatable and your desire to find out what happened to that character kept those pages turning. Put on your critical eye once more and apply it to your reading, not all the time, but often enough that you learn something about the most memorable characters in literature. The best way to hook your readers and keep them wanting more is to write a character, or a whole host of characters, that your readership feels strongly about, identify what it is each of those characters wants more than anything in the world, and figure out how to keep them from getting it over and over in the twists and turns of your plot. Remember the characters you loved best, or perhaps even the characters you hated most, and infuse your own characters with the same depth of personality you encountered in the pages of your most cherished books.

Reading has always been so many things to me: escape, vacation, classroom, teacher, adventure, mirror, friend, life. Those who know me best say they can scarcely picture me without my nose stuck between the pages of a book. In recent months, however, reading has become something else. In my efforts to write better I have realized my reading habit is a daily lesson of masterful composition, especially if I read with a critical mind. Read because you love it, because reading can only make your life richer and more fulfilled, but also read with purpose because your first novel is counting on all that beautiful inspiration.

Better Writing Requires Purposeful Reading was originally published in The Writing Cooperative on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Yesterday, I received the title Top Writer in Writing on Medium. As always, I’m grateful for this title. I thank all of my readers who read, clap for, and respond to my posts. I’m also grateful to the Startup publication for featuring my posts on a daily basis.

As I have done with the Top Writer title in Leadership, I will publish a post on writing today to celebrate this title. I have been publishing a blog post every day since November 18, 2017. That makes 103 blog posts for the last three months.

First of all, without the motivation coming from Medium, this would be impossible. But I have other practices that help me publish a blog post every day as well. I also plan to publish a book, so that will be the fourth and last step that I’m going to discuss today.

Step #1: Capture Ideas

On a given day, at least ten ideas pop up in my mind. I don’t think I’m special. Unless you’re depressed or asleep all day long, a lot of ideas would pop up in your mind as well. The question is what are you doing with those ideas?

Do you judge your ideas as being silly and cast them aside? Or do you value them and write them down somewhere? I don’t judge any idea no matter how silly it may sound. I write it down in the Evernote mobile app in my phone.

How long does it take to write down an idea?

One minute? How long does it take to write down ten ideas? Ten minutes?

It has a calming effect to write down an idea. You get it out of your head and your mental clarity increases. That idea doesn’t bother you anymore.

You also tell your mind that you appreciate your ideas. You condition your mind to come up with more ideas by writing them down.

Consume Quality Content

I’m not going to lie. Having read a good deal of books, quality blog posts, listened to audiobooks and podcasts, and watched quality videos on YouTube helps as well.

I have been consuming personal development content for more than 15 years. I have been observing and thinking about personal development, business, and investing for more than ten years.

I have more than ten years of work experience. All of that formed a basis and I can come with at least ten ideas to write a blog post about, on a given day.

Focus on Originality

My challenge isn’t about the quantity of ideas. My challenge is about how original my ideas are. I just don’t want to repeat what ten other personal development or business experts are writing about.

I want to write about really original ideas that my readers won’t be able to find anywhere else. That’s a challenge, because the ideas I select have to satisfy me first for their originality.

If I’m going to write about an idea that is already repeated by a dozen other experts, I don’t get motivated to write that post in the first place. Sometimes, I feel obliged to do that though, because some ideas are so fundamental that they must be repeated.

Step #2: Organize Ideas in Evernote

I usually take an hour or two in a given week to organize my ideas in Evernote. This is not an exciting work, I must say. This might as well be the hardest part.

I go over almost all the ideas in my Evernote and organize them under various theme notes. My theme notes include leadership, business, investing, writing, careers, and productivity. I add new theme notes as needed. I must admit that I’m not able to process all of my ideas every week.

Coming up with ideas is fun. Writing a post based on an idea is fun. But the step in between, organizing the ideas is grueling work.

Why Organize Ideas?

That grueling work has to be done. Why? Sometimes I come up with ten ideas about a certain topic. When I organize them in a separate note, I realize that at least three of them are repetitions. I came up with the same idea multiple times over time. So, I remove the repetitions.

Then, I realize I’d rather combine the remaining seven ideas in a single blog post, because that shows the multiple sides of the story. I like to discuss the multiple sides of a story.

If you read my blog posts, I usually discuss several arguments which are contradicting each other. Then I try to find a solution that combines all of those contradicting arguments.

Sometimes, a reader reads a paragraph, gets triggered, and writes a resentful response. I don’t think an approach that only focuses on one end of the spectrum produces good results in life. That is what I call the fallacy of extremism.

We’re better off considering both extremes of a spectrum and finding a point in that spectrum that is an optimal solution for everyone involved.

Step #3: Publish a Blog Post

Writing a blog post is fun but not easy. I must say that it’s a challenge for me to keep it short and easy. Sometimes, I want to delve deeper into a topic and discuss all aspects of it. That’s not possible in a blog post. Sometimes, it’s not even possible in a book. However, I want to discuss it as much as possible.

Writing a blog post is a great mental exercise. It helps you think through your ideas.

The first step I take when writing a blog post is to write down the main ideas on an empty text editor like Notepad on Windows. Then I structure them in different sections. When I have the structure, I write those sections.

Keep an Open Mind

Sometimes, I don’t have a conviction when discussing ideas in a blog post. I discuss the arguments on each side of the issue. Only after that, I try to make my mind.

And sometimes, I don’t even make my mind after completing the blog post. Then I ask the readers for their opinions.

Benefits of Blogging Daily

Disciplining yourself to publish a blog post every day is a great personal development exercise. Unlike journaling or thinking, a blog post needs to be structured.

A blog post must discuss an idea taking into account several sides and reach a conclusion. That helps you reach a higher level of mental clarity. Blogging daily also improves your critical thinking skills.

I can easily say that after publishing 100+ post daily, I can feel the benefits in my thinking patterns. I have a higher level of mental clarity.

Moreover, I hold myself to a higher standard now trying to follow all the principles written in my blog posts.

The cherry on top is the comments and responses I receive. Sometimes, those comments and responses give me new ideas and new tips that I can benefit from.

Step #4: Publish a Book

Once you have 100+ blog posts, you can easily fill a book with them. I probably have more than 50K words in my blog post, possibly more than 100K. That’s enough to fill a book and I plan to write and publish one.

What keeps me from starting that project is my follower numbers. I have 300+ followers on Medium and 30+ email newsletter subscribers. I don’t think those numbers justify to write a book at this moment.

I didn’t do anything artificial to boost my follower and subscriber numbers. I don’t think doing that would add any value to me as a writer and to those people as followers. I’ll let it grow organically as people discover me through natural means.

A book is more than a collection of blog posts.

Another reason I don’t publish a book at this moment is that I don’t want to put a bunch of blog posts in a book and publish it. I want to have a solid structure, an outline that holds and binds everything together.

I want to have an outline where all the ideas follow each other in a logical flow. I want to rewrite a lot of content to avoid repetition and to improve the quality. I also want to hire an editor and a designer for the cover.

I don’t think my following numbers are justifying all of those work and costs at the moment. So, if you want the book coming soon, follow me on Medium and sign up to the email newsletter and tell your friends and family to do the same.

Even if I don’t start writing the book, it’s a good practice to go over my blog posts and come up with an outline. By doing that, I see the possible structure of my book and which topics I am missing in my blog. Then, I focus more on those topics in my blog.

Conclusion

Writing is a great personal development exercise that provides you with mental clarity and critical thinking skills. There’s a catch though. You need to commit to publish a blog post regularly, preferably every day.

In order to publish a blog post every day, capture your ideas and organize them regularly. In order to come up with a lot of ideas, get out of your comfort zone frequently and consume a lot of quality content.

And who knows when you reach a certain number of blog posts and followers, you can publish your ideas in a book.

Read Next: Four Secrets of Leadership or sign up to the Weekly Newsletter.

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Four Steps to Becoming a Published Author was originally published in The Startup on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Last night I moderated a panel for Dream Galaxy/Dream Africa’s film screening. It was right up my alley as it was the intersection of culture and tech.

There were two panelists. Nathalie Schmidt was the featured filmmaker for the evening.

Nathalie is an accomplished actress who recently wrote, directed, produced, and starred in the award-winning web series, I Do.

When I met Nathalie, the first words out of my mouth were — “I see you are a filmmaker, per tonight’s screening, however, I see you are also an actress. Which is your first love?” She blushed and almost abashedly but mostly present to being seen answered, “Acting.”

Daniel Uvell, is a web developer but really he’s so much more. Daniel is also the Director of WikiTongues, a thoughtful, almost provocative nonprofit that challenges language norms and aims to ensure the world’s over 7000 languages are preserved and not forgotten.

My first meeting of Daniel — he was a bit flustered, like any New Yorker aiming to get from point A to point B on the subway — especially when it decides to do its own thing vs run on schedule.

He ran up to me, apologized for being late and I was immediately taken by his unspoken love for not just life but humanity. He wears his desire to be his best self and contribute to the world on his sleeve.

As I stood with the two of them, a tech founder/web developer and a fillmmaker and actress. The techie and the artist — two very different prototypes in American culture that are merging more and more everyday.

As I stood with both of them for a few minutes and observed their obvious differences I observed an obvious thread. A peak into my process as a moderator — there is always a theme. I read the panelists, the audience, and create a theme that serves the combination of energies in the room. The MasterMind or Heart.

As I spoke to both of them — it became clear that language, a connection to not just the immigrant experience but the experience of living in a global society, and the accompanying implications was a common thread for the two.

Daniel has a perspective that acutely speaks to the inherent and structural inequalities of what language ‘gets to go’. On the panel he shared that his desire for Wikitongues is for it to be like the Greenpeace for language — meaning the way Greenpeace made environmental justice a known issue in the world he wants WikiTongues to do the same for languages.

Nathalie has an intrinsic connection and thus ability to portray the human experience. In her web series, I do, she tells the story of an immigrant woman, Zoe, in NY who is looking to get married so that she can stay in the United States. With such simplicity she touches on so many nuances of not only the immigrant experience but also the experience of simply being a human with the desire for marriage with a tinge of an imposed deadline. Whether you’re an immigrant or not, it’s effortless to relate to the human desires, tendencies, and quirks that play out as Zoe explores the possibility with various potentials.

As a bit of a futurist and someone who studies the culture and technology inside of what’s possible for the democratization and access to living a great life. ( A mouthful I know) I’ll unpack it in a future article. What was clear to me inside of interviewing both of them, successful in their own right for the work that they do, there were some innate similarities core to their process.

PASSION WHEN FOCUSED AND CHANNELED

A gift I was present to in both Nathalie and Daniel is their ability to channel their passion specific enough and long enough to develop teams and create products that convert invisible energy into something tangible.

Passion, purpose, and profit is something entrepreneurs and creatives ponder on a lot as we aim to create sustainable living around the work we want to do in the world.

A couple of weeks ago in a meeting with a potential client, the Founder commented that he spends a lot of time thinking about passion and believes that when channeled appropriately, can be very persuasive.

His comment stood out to me because it’s the challenge and opportunity that comes with anything new — channeling it, honing it, and bringing it down from the invisible to the visible.

I’m not quite sure if this is exactly what he meant, but in any new project, business, or endeavor there’s always the exciting part when it’s just an idea and then there’s the part that follows, that requires grit, focus, and resilience — best when fueled by passion.

The ability to bring passion and inspiration down, mold it into implementable idea, and stay focused long enough to realize it is a skill of its own.

BUILD AS YOU GO — FLEXIBILITY

In the September-October issue of Harvard Business Review last year, the Jeffrey Immelt, CEO of GE, shared in a feature article, “…you have to listen and act at the same time. You need to allow new thoughts to constantly come in, and you need to be open to the reality that your organization will have to pivot when it learns something new, while still having the courage to push people forward.”

This is the one of the quintessential challenges in the world of flexibility and agiity. To be able to stay the couse while pivoting and responding to breakdowns along the way.

Both Nathalie’s and Daniel’s stories were examples of agility and flexibility.

Specifically Nathalie’s response and investor dropped the day before shooting began. This required a pivot in funding plans which ended up providing the opportunity to more tightly partner with her crew and raise money in a way that increased exposure.

DISTRIBUTED LEADERSHIP

Daniel shared the current edge for WikiTongues is the challenge of having too many contributors and needed to decentralize the structure to create room for growth for the group that contributes to now over 345 languages represented on the WikiTongues site.

It is interesting to watch a young startup scale and watch the tools and methods used to do so. Some time ago I wrote an article on HuffPo, Can Your Startup Get Just Corporate Enough to Yield Sustainable Growth While Maintaining Your Agile Culture. This was written five years ago before case studies such as Spotify set examples of what is possible with distributed leadership and integratred teams.

One of my favorite things to do is watch and study the process of creatives and entrepeneurs alike. More specifically, those on various sides of the veil — tech vs culture.

And to see the two collide and begin to fuse such that one mimics the other — yass! I mean, arguably, they always have. Life imitates art and whether you’re an artist, tech founder, or working for a fortune 500 company we all have a process in which we create.

At the core of a humanity — is the desire to create. Nathalie and Daniel, and actress and a web developer on one panel is a quintessential example of — we have more in common than we think.

On the face of it, Financial Accounting, Corporate Finance, Managerial Statistics, and Business Analytics, a few of the courses in Columbia Business School’s MBA program, wouldn’t contribute much to one’s career as a writer.

Unless business journalism is the goal.

In that case, an in depth understanding of data sets, computer modeling and valuations might lend insight into the finance industry’s machinations. Delving into macro-economics would undoubtedly aid in unravelling the gordian knot of global markets and currency fluctuations.

But I wasn’t ever to be a business journalist. Still, I found the rigor of the education stimulating (and loved most every minute of it).

The upshot was this:

I received a fine advanced education in finance and economics, but what I really graduated with was a degree in bold self confidence.

The self confidence was nurtured by tackling something entirely new. Communications and marketing were my wheelhouse professionally, not the “dismal science” of economics.

I competed, holding my own, among classmates much younger, from professions much more akin to the curriculum.

It was terrifying at first to be in something so over my head, both intellectually and emotionally. Yet, twenty months later that tiger was wrestled to the ground. Mission accomplished.

The new-found, empowering self confidence helped me become a better writer.

Every time we start to write we’re grappling with a new challenge. Even an topic we’ve examined time and again comes alive in a new way. Every sentence is a new structure.

Self confidence is critical to the writing process. And the bolder the better.

Many articles found on The Writing Cooperative are inspiring, encouraging yet realistic.

Persistence matters, too. To believe you can do it, to dig deep, takes self confidence.

Many tell their of personal journeys from the ignominy of being invisible to glory of being viral wonders.

What appears to be the common denominator, the underpinning of success, is self confidence.

The same animal I discovered in business school has propelled my through some dark days as I develop a voice as a writer.

Self confidence flags. You can’t always summon it.

Tom Kuegler is a writer whom I follow and find inspiring (most of the time). He is honest, self-confident enough to address the veil descend that can descend paralyzing us from writing one more word.

You wouldn’t think a guy with a robust, near 20k following, would have that problem.

But he talks about when you just can’t do it. Don’t want to do it. Don’t even want to try. And that’s okay.

There is bold self confidence in knowing that if you step away, you are not walking away.

Finally, if you want be a successful writer, or at at least a better one, you need to give stuff up. It takes self confidence to know that’s a shift of the needle, not the end of the world.

We acquire self confidence, the bold variety, not the timid, tepid stuff, in unlikely places. It doesn’t matter at all where it is unearthed. What matters is you run with it.

Copyright 2018 Jane Trombley All rights reserved.

Words. They’ve always been my solace and my salvation. Of all my childhood memories, perhaps the most vivid is the day I learned to read on my own. My four-year-old self sat in my grandfather’s olive green rocker picking quietly at the nubby fabric bumps. Dr. Dan, The Bandage Man lay limply in my lap as I waited for my grandfather to finish up whatever he was doing. For the first time in my life, I felt frustration creeping into my body.

I hated waiting for someone to read to me. I reached down and opened up the book to look at the pictures. As I glanced at the page, I began to string the letters together. And the letters made words, and the words became sentences, and I was reading, and I was free — so very, very free.

The truth of me is when I am unhappy about a thing; I change it if I can.

It was the last day of grade three, and something had shifted. Five girls from my class stood clustered around the half-moon bathroom sink that reminded me of a horse trough. They eyed me as I entered the stall and once I was inside, the whispering began along with the games of hurtful, jealous children. Until that moment, the prevailing feeling I had was of being loved unconditionally.

My happiest times were the hours I spent curled up turning page after page of my dearly loved books. The words carried me away into the magical world of my imagination. Here, the words were safe and comforting, unlike the hurtful words I encountered out in the world. But I always had to return to school, and it was here where I learned to hide my joy. I dimmed my light to protect myself from the pain. I could not understand what I had done to make those girls hate me so much. I got smaller and smaller, folding my true self like a piece of origami to try to fit into their world.

The truth of me is that I wanted others to love me.

Hiding my true self didn’t work so later I adopted a new approach. I decided if I became good at a lot of things then there is no way they couldn’t like me. How could you not love a winner? The early years of high school became all about proving my worth. As I excelled in gymnastics, track and field, newspaper, social committee, cheerleading and in my studies, I began to leave “the Girls” behind.

They still watched from the sidelines and sneered when they could, but by grade ten, I had had enough. I was tired of trying to fit in or hoping to be accepted. My years of pain bubbled up and turned to anger. My words became, “Fuck you. Someday you will look up and see I’ve left you and your hurtful words far behind and you’ll wonder to yourself, how did she get there.”

For years, I fueled my accomplishments on the ice, in sports, at school, and in my career with the anger I had for “the Girls.” But, no matter what I did, it was never enough. Meeting my husband was a significant turning point. The words he used to describe me were ‘intelligent,’ ‘beautiful,’ ‘confident,’ and ‘loving.’

The truth of me was treasured by this man.

The more I owned his words about me, the more I left behind my anger and sadness. The more secure I became in our relationship, the less approval I needed from the outside world. I learned to love myself by loving him, and that was enough. Together we chose the beautiful words that bound us together forever:

Marriage is the joining of two souls; the mystical, physical and emotional union of two human beings who have separate families and histories, separate destinies and philosophies. Two individuals willingly choose to set aside the solitary exploration of themselves to discover who they are in the presence of one another.

Four years into our marriage, Gary was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Now the words were cancer and chemotherapy and hair loss and pain. As Gary’s health deteriorated, so did my life. We wrestled with our fears and made a best friend of denial.

On May 7, 2001, I received a call from the Washoe County Coroner’s office. “A strange voice asked, “Was your husband in Nevada receiving cancer treatments?” I heard it — “was” — past tense. Gary was dead.

No matter how hard I tried, this was a thing I could not change.

My answer to grief was work. I buried myself until I could no longer breathe. Exhaustion closed in as did the walls of the home that was still ours, not mine. I sold the house, moved back to Canada, and spent a year studying spiritual psychotherapy as I began the slow process of healing from my loss. I fought back grief-related depression, produced documentary films, and traveled to Kathmandu where I let go of the last piece of our marriage — Gary’s wedding ring. Spiritually, I felt cleansed, and I began to examine the life I was living.
I realized I was in an unhappy business partnership doing nothing but work — again. I felt lonely and unfulfilled.

The truth of me is when I am unhappy about a thing; I change it if I can.

Seven years after Gary’s passing, I landed back in Los Angeles. I began to write and dance. In a studio in West LA, I struggled to master the turning steps that had me circling my instructor’s body, coming back around to drop back in a dip that ends our salsa dance. I turned in on myself, tighter and tighter. It felt all wrong. Again. Step rock back, turn right left right and step rock back half pivot and drop. Like a stone. And again. Step rock back, turn right left right, and step rock back half pivot, and drop. And again…another four times until the instructor had had enough.

“Are you bound or are you free?” he asked.

The truth of me is when I am not achieving the results I want, I take responsibility and make a change if I can.

Bound. The word wrapped around me like a noose. I felt bound. I exhaled. I chose to let go of trying to do it right. Five and six and seven and eight and step rock back, turn right left right and step rock back half pivot and drop — and, finally I did it. I was free. So very, very free.

Words. They are my solace. They are my salvation. They are my inspiration…and, so, I write…I write to remember, and I dance to forget.