Harper Lee wrote, what many consider, one of the best novels of the 20th century. But To Kill A Mockingbird was her only book. She may have written other books, but she published only one in her lifetime. She had another career to make ends meet. A single novel (and a film adaptation) does not make a living. It might make one famous, but one can’t eat fame for breakfast.

I suppose it comes down to one’s goals.

If your goal is to have your script enter the pantheon of the greatest films and be remembered for decades, maybe even centuries, then I suppose it could be worthwhile to polish and perfect that singular work and protect it from a savage audience until it is fully grown and unassailable. But if your goal is to make a great living for you and your family as a screenwriter or filmmaker, then quantity is equal if not as important as quality.

I would further argue that quality actually comes faster by completing more stories and getting them in front of people. For the screenwriter, that equates to sending scripts to agents and possibly the dreaded screenwriting competition.

I don’t actually believe that winning a competition gives you a golden ticket to Hollywood, but it does give you useful feedback on your work. Just simply getting accepted into a competition at a film festival can be worthwhile for a variety of reason, most especially if you can attend in person. You can meet directors, producers, writers with whom you could collaborate, and other industry professionals. In other words, you build a network, which is potentially more important than your quality of writing.

Let’s go back to perfectionism, as that's what I was hinting at with the Harper Lee example. I should preface what I’m about to say with the full disclosure that I am a recovering hardcore perfectionist.

Perfectionism is a trap. It is a lie. It is a way to allow fear to rule your world. Perfectionism keeps you small, diminishes your ambitions. It isolates. It holes you up in a safe cocoon, eschewing social bonds. It whispers in your ear that you are not worthy of that association, that mentor, those friends with their fun and games, and, worst of all, that you must create the perfect piece of art before love can be bestowed upon you.

And so you endlessly fuss over dialogue until the teeth are worn down to nubs. You polish your prose, grinding at scene descriptions and tinkering with tone until the foundation of what makes your writing unique turns to dust.

Okay, I know what you are thinking; words matter. The right verb kills… or does it eviscerate?

If you never assess what you wrote with a writer’s eye for active over passive voice, or employing sensory details where the power of sight has a tendency to take precedence, your writing might never get stronger. If you never read other authors that are beyond you current capabilities, how can you ever become aware of areas for potential improvement in your own works?

There are two ways around this that I’d like to highlight.

First, if you have already published a novel or had a screenplay green-lit (though the film might never have been made), then I’d say follow Robert Heinlein’s Rules for Writing, which I will return to in a moment.

Second, if you have never signed a contract with a reputable publisher or at least optioned a screenplay, then you should still follow Heinlein’s rules AND you need to independently publish your book or make your own movie. This second option is easier in some ways and harder in others.

The crux of the matter is this: You need a (preferably paying) audience to give you feedback.

Your mom will say, “This is the best story you’ve ever written. This’ll surely get you an agent.” She has to say that. She’s your mom. Unless she is a gaslighting narcissist, and then she’ll crush your dreams if you dare show her your work. Either way, feedback from sources such as this isn’t terribly helpful.

Alternatively, the YouTube comments on your indie web series will tell you what’s working and where you need to improve. Data mining requires a lot more than one data point. In statistics, averages and the median mean something. Outliers ought to be suspect.

You might think, “Why should I ‘pander’ to an audience?” Simple. Because you write with a purpose, which is to entertain, to inspire, to provoke thought and connect with other human beings.

Now, on to Heinlein’s Rules for Writing:

– Rule One: You Must Write

– Rule Two: Finish What You Start

– Rule Three: You Must Refrain From Rewriting, Except to Editorial Order

– Rule Four: You Must Put Your Story on the Market

– Rule Five: You Must Keep it on the Market until it has Sold

Give these rules more than a cursory glance and they will blossom, yielding the nectar of wisdom.

1. You Must Write

Well, duh! Reading this article, though potentially helpful, and hopefully at least mildly entertaining, does not make you a writer. The same goes for reading books on the subject. And watching interviews. And listening to podcasts. And even reading great books. All of these can help, but only if you are regularly sitting at the writing desk, distraction free, and plunking down words on the page, one after the other.

2. Finish What You Start

Imagine writing the first few scenes of ten screenplays. You’d get pretty good, right? Well, yes, good at writing beginnings. But what about middles? What about building toward climaxes? Weaving multiple story threads into a satisfying resolution? Forcing your characters to grow and transform through navigation of a gauntlet of obstacles and conflict to reach their goals? Keeping theme alive throughout? You get the idea. There are many facets to writing a great story and the only way to craft a sparkling gem is to cut each angle in turn. Finish what you start.

3. You Must Refrain From Rewriting, Except at the Behest of Paying Producer(s)

If you are already a professional, this one is easier in some ways. Write it and send it to your agent or the film producer. No matter how good it is, they will have notes, comments, and suggestions. Why? Because, first, they need to justify their paycheck, and second, they are human beings with market perspectives that might make your work more salable. So, since they will give notes no matter what, why agonize over that draft? Iterate your way to quality. Send it.

If, however, you haven’t sold any of your writing yet, then the stone cold, most ballsy move is to immediately produce an independent film or web series from your screenplay. You’ll market the hell out of it, because if you don't, no one will see it. You might even post Facebook ads to raise awareness and get more eyeballs on your work. In short, you’ll do whatever it takes to get the feedback.

4. You Must Put Your Story on the Market

Gatekeepers exist. You can bemoan the fact, but that won’t change it. Agents and editors, publishers and producers. That’s the front end, but the back end of the process foists its trials upon us too. Critics lambast from the safety of their bylines, distanced from the blood, sweat, and tears we spent generating our masterpiece and marketing to raising awareness.

In light of that, let's make a pact today. We will jettison the fantasy about the script that's been hiding on our hard drive and instead put our name on the line to see what we could become in the real world, where it counts. No longer spectators, we will put forth extraordinary effort on the actual field of play. We will take the bruises, be thankful for the lessons they imbue, and rush back to the huddle for the next play. We agree to put our stories on the market and reject those fears that once held us in check.

5. You Must Keep it on the Market until it has Sold

One rejection ain’t enough to call it quits. A boxer doesn’t quit the first time he gets tagged on the nose. He takes the punch and learns to keep his gloves up the next time. But he is guaranteed to get punched again, because that’s the only way to progress and earn the big purse.

Be grateful when you get actionable advice from a rejection slip. At least the gatekeepers didn’t ghost you. If you agree with their assessment, make your changes as fast as possible and send it to the next gatekeeper on your list, the very same day being the strongest of responses to rejection. If their thoughts are worthless, send it out as is.

Exposure Therapy is a tried and true method that builds resilience and eradicates fears.

Imagine a therapist named Dr. Evelyn who devotes her days to helping people conquer their deepest fears. One of her clients, Carlos, had an intense fear of heights that paralyzed him from enjoying even the simplest pleasures like hiking or visiting friends in high-rise apartments. Dr. Evelyn introduced Carlos to exposure therapy, beginning with gentle steps—first, they looked at photos of tall buildings together, then stood near a window on the first floor. Gradually, they advanced to higher floors, always at Carlos’ pace, until the day he stood atop the city’s tallest skyscraper. Carlos’ initial terror transformed into triumph as he gazed over the skyline, no longer shackled by his IRRATIONAL fear.

I suggest you act as your own therapist with regards to submitting work. Expose yourself to rejection. Take a note from the Stoics and walk through the Fear Setting Exercise, where you write down the worst outcomes rather than allow fears to swim ill-defined and un-moored in your head.

I’ll tell you what. Hearing, “Your screenplay sucks,” or, “This script is trite drivel unfit to soak up the piss in a puppy’s potty training crate,” might hurt, but it’s not equivalent to getting the news from your doctor that you have six weeks to live. Apply some perspective, and take on your mostly-irrational fears one step at a time.

Some Perspective On Perspective

A lot of people think that once you’ve made it—financial freedom, fame, a ten film production deal—everything becomes easier. Some things do, but not everything.

Imagine winning an Oscar for best screenplay. You might feel pressure to equal it on your very next outing, and not just from your own expectations. How many bands make a splash with their first album only to flop on the next one, break up from the strain, and launch solo careers that fail to materialize?

No, courage is required all through life, at every stage. Without cultivating it, we remain a shadow of our potential. It’s high time we maximize the unique gifts we received upon being born. Anything less is an affront to the universe. Tough words, I know. Yet we need to hear them and heed them. So, let’s get to it, shall we? One word at a time.

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