Do the Work

truth. The aim of every axiom set forth thus far is to outwit, outflank, outmaneuver Resistance.
     
    We can never eliminate Resistance. It will never go away. But we can outsmart it, and we can enlist allies that are as powerful as it is.
     
    One thing we can never, never permit ourselves to do is to take Resistance lightly, to underestimate it or to fail to take it into account.
     
    We must respect Resistance, like Sigourney Weaver respected the Alien, or St. George respected the dragon.
     
    Fill in the Gaps
     
    On our single sheet of foolscap we’ve got the Big Beats. Now what?
     
    Fill in the gaps.
     
    David Lean famously declared that a feature film should have seven or eight major sequences. That’s a pretty good guideline for our play, our album, our State of the Union address.
     
    A video game should have seven or eight major movements; so should the newest high-tech gadget, or the latest fighter plane. Our new house should have seven or eight major spaces. A football game, a prize fight, a tennis match—if they’re going to be entertaining—should have seven or eight major swings of momentum.
     
    That’s what we need now. We need to fill in the gaps with a series of great entertaining and enlightening scenes, sequences, or spaces.
     
    Do Research Now
     
    Now you can do your research. But stay on your diet.
     
    Do research early or late. Don’t stop working. Never do research in prime working time.
     
    Research can be fun. It can be seductive. That’s its danger. We need it, we love it. But we must never forget that research can become Resistance.
     
    Soak up what you need to fill in the gaps. Keep working.
     
    How Screenwriters Pitch
     
    When movie writers pitch a project, they keep it brief because studio executives’ attention spans are minimal. But they, the writers, want their presentation to have maximum impact and to deliver, in concise form, the feel and flavor of the film they see in their heads.
     
    One trick they use is to boil down their presentation to the following:
     
     
A killer opening scene
     
Two major set pieces in the middle
     
A killer climax
     
A concise statement of the theme
     
     
    In other words, they’re filling in the gaps. The major beats.
     
    We can do that, too.
     
    If we’re inventing Twitter, we start with What Are You Doing Now?, the 140-character limit, and the Following. We fill in the gaps: the hashtag, the tiny URL, the re-tweet.
     
    If we’re writing The Hangover , we kick off with Losing Doug, Searching for Doug, Finding Doug. Fill in the blanks: Stu marries a stripper, Mike Tyson comes after his tiger, Mister Chow brings the muscle.
     
    Any project or enterprise can be broken down into beginning, middle, and end. Fill in the gaps; then fill in the gaps between the gaps.
     
    When we’ve got David Lean’s eight sequences, we’re home except for one thing:
     
    The actual work.
     
    Cover the Canvas
     
    One rule for first full working drafts: get them done ASAP.
     
    Don’t worry about quality. Act, don’t reflect. Momentum is everything.
     
    Get to THE END as if the devil himself were breathing down your neck and poking you in the butt with his pitchfork.
     
    Believe me, he is.
     
    Get the serum to Nome. Get the Conestoga wagon to the Oregon Trail. Get the first version of your project done from A to Z as fast as you can.
     
    Don’t stop. Don’t look down. Don’t think.
     
    Suspend All Self-Judgment
     
    Unless you’re building a sailboat or the Taj Mahal, I give you a free pass to screw up as much as you like.
     
    The inner critic? His ass is not permitted in the building.
     
    Set forth without fear and without self-censorship. When you hear that voice in your head, blow it off.
     
    This draft is not being graded. There will be no pop quiz.
     
    Only one thing matters in this initial draft: get SOMETHING done, however flawed or imperfect.
     
    You are not allowed to judge yourself.
     
    The Crazier the Better
     
    My friend Paul is writing a cop novel. He’s never written anything so ambitious—and he’s terrified. “The story is coming out dark,” he says. “I mean twisted, weird-dark. So dark it’s scaring me.”
     
    Paul wants to know if he should throttle back. He’s worried that the book will come out so evil, not even Darth Vader will want to touch it.
     
    Answer: No way.
     
    The darker the better, if that’s how it’s coming to him.
     
    Suspending self-judgment doesn’t just mean blowing off