Mike Schur is one of the most prolific comedy writers of his time. His stacked resume includes gigs writing for Saturday Night Live, Parks & Recreations, and The Office. In 2016 he switched from staff member to showrunner on CBS’s The Good Place — an audacious sitcom that blends sketch comedy and moral philosophy.

Recently, Mike sat down on the Tim Ferriss Podcast to discuss his career and new book How to be Perfect: The Correct Answer to Every Moral Question. The interview includes Schur’s thoughts on comedy, philosophy, and lessons learned as a writer.

Here are 5 bits of writing wisdom from the interview.

Show Tough Love To Your Work

Fresh out of college, Michael Schur landed a dream job writing for Saturday Night Live. While exciting for the young writer, he describes the experience as a “gauntlet of fire”.

The show’s strict weekly format forced the staff to hatch sketch ideas and ruthlessly pare them down for the camera.

“You generally have about four minutes to do whatever you’re going to do. You’re talking about four minutes, and so you write a sketch and it’s five minutes and 38 seconds long, and you go in with a red pen and you just make giant X’s on your script.”

Sound harsh?

Maybe so. But Schur claims the success and failure of a sketch were based on how tough writers were on the piece.

The joke didn’t land? Cut it! An idea fell flat? Scratch it out. Your sketch didn’t get a laugh? Scrap the whole thing.

This tough-love approach allowed the SNL staff to pump out lean, smart sketches that entertain the audience.

“Being tough on your work” is not an excuse to belittle yourself. Writing is hard enough as it is. But if you have the humility to scrutinize what you write, and edit when necessary, your work as a whole will improve.

Characters Come First

After seven years at SNL, Mike worked in the writing rooms of some of the most popular comedy shows of the 21st century: The Office, Parks & Recreations, Brooklyn 99.

Schur says the switch to long-form television, poses a unique challenge for sketch comedy writers:

“The thing that SNL can teach you is what’s funny, funny ways of observing the world or ways to write jokes. But long-form TV writing is about establishing characters and slow-cooking them”

People tune into series for laughs, but they stick around for the characters. Shows like The Office ran for over 200 episodes because audiences fell in love with Steve Carell’s Michael Scott and Rain Wilson’s Dwight Schrute.

This is no coincidence. From the beginning of the show’s nine-year run, The Office writing team made establishing and building character a priority. The staff believed every detail should reveal something new about a character.

Schur says this philosophy led to spirited debates over things as small as what someone received for a Christmas present.

All this underscores the point: character comes first.

Audiences can forgive slow pacing, minor plot holes, or other slip-ups if you give them characters to care about.

Follow Your Fascinations

On coming up with fresh story ideas, Mike shares this:

“And of the many, many rules of creation or of writing that have been taught to me over the years by a number of very smart people, the best and most trustworthy is write what’s interesting.”

Sounds obvious, right?

Perhaps. But the fact that creative minds like Schur, Pixar’s Pete Docter, and Simpson’s legend John Swartzwelder offer similar advice shows it’s “obvious” advice that is often ignored.

This happens because we fall into two traps when picking an idea.

Playing it safe — selecting a “safe” idea we assume will play well with our audience.

Hunting for perfection — searching for the elusive “perfect idea”.

Both traps tempt writers with a promise of certainty. The first is that there is an idea so tried and true it will work in all scenarios. The latter, that an idea so impeccable exists, it simply cannot fail.

In between the two extremes is an interesting idea. An interesting idea is one that compels you to write. It’s the one you stay up at night thinking about. It’s so fascinating it energizes you through the highs and lows of the writing process.

Remember, what we see as a good or “successful” idea is one someone took the time to will to completion. If you’ve any chance to put in this work, you first need an idea that excites you.

Write About Complex Issues In Entertaining Ways

The Good Place is perhaps the crown jewel of Mike Schur’s writing career — a network comedy that explicitly deals with moral philosophy from thinkers like Immanuel Kant and Jeremy Bentham.

You might expect a show with such lofty ideas to bore the audience. Or perhaps only appeal to a small intellectual niche. The numbers say otherwise.

Before wrapping up its final season in 2019, The Good Place was one of the most popular shows on CBS. Drawing in millions of viewers per week.

How did a show about such a cerebral subject bring in that large of an audience?

Schur claims The Good Place succeeded because it presents complex ideas in ways that are both entertaining and understandable. The show creates scenarios that highlight moral dilemmas, without diluting or dumbing them down.

In today’s digital age it’s common to lament the waning attention and intelligence of an audience. But the success of a show like The Good Place proves there is still a market for brainy ideas in pop entertainment.

Don’t underestimate the intelligence of your audience. If there’s a subject you consider “too sophisticated” for the masses, reconsider. People aren’t afraid to wrestle with larger ideas if they’re introduced in a compelling way.

Take Big Swings & Don’t Be Afraid To Fail

On Saturday Night Live, Mike wrote for megastars like Tina Fey, Amy Pohler, and Will Ferrell. One might suspect working with such high-profile actors would give you a front-row seat to virtuosic performances week in and out.

According to Schur, the reality was a little different:

“I saw the greatest comedians of our generation bomb, week after week, after week. Tina Fey’s batting average was the highest of anyone’s. And she probably hit 400, which is great for a baseball player, and incredible for an SNL sketch writer.”

Humbling, no?

The best writers and comedians fail more than they succeed. Schur says, although painful, these frequent missteps thickened the skin of SNL alums. It teaches them they can survive mistakes.

Hiccups and stumbles are part of the process for any writer and performer. No matter how good you are or become, you will never outgrow them. The ones who produce great work, like Schur and Fey, are those that continue to make bold choices in the face of failure.

You may never land a job writing for Saturday Night Live or The Office, but this attitude can benefit writers of all levels. No matter where you are in your career, continue to test daring ideas. Fail regularly. Learn from your mistakes. And most importantly keep writing.

American writer Chuck Palahniuk’s style of transgressive fiction has captivated and shocked audiences for three decades. He’s written 15 novels, dozens of short stories, and two graphic novels. His work has sold millions of copies, been translated into 35 languages, and spawned countless adaptations — most notably the 1999 cult film Fight Club.

In 2019, Chuck shared thoughts on his life and craft in Consider This — a writer’s memoir bound to stand aside Steven King’s On Writing as one of the classics in the genre. The book contains a treasure trove of wisdom on style, publishing, and storytelling.

This article will focus on the nuts and bolts advice in the book — practical tips that should help writers of all types. Below are seven pieces of advice from Bestseller Chuck Palahniuk.

Tip 1: Move Beyond Description

Palahniuk cites three forms of written communication.

Description: “A man walks into a bar”

Instruction: “Walk into the bar”

Exclamation: “Boom! He walked in the bar”

Of the three, most writers lean on the description. It provides a concise tool to represent events, people, and places.

However, overuse of description can lead to a stale, repetitive style — writing that reads more like an instruction manual than page-turning prose.

To enliven your work, Chuck suggests splashing in instruction and exclamation. Mixing the three forms of communication creates a “natural, conversation style” that mirrors how people talk. For example:

“A man walks in a bar and orders a margarita. Easy enough. Mix three parts tequila and two parts triple sec with one part lime juice, pour it over ice, and — viola — that’s a margarita.”

While this tip calls for “moving beyond description, most of your writing will remain descriptive. If you’re lost about when to sprinkle in instruction and exclamation, remember Chuck’s formula “Three parts description. Two parts instruction. One part exclamation. And mix for taste.”

Tip 2: Switch POVs

“Point of view” is both the eyes and voice in a narrative. It establishes who is giving the information and what tone they’re addressing the audience.

Chuck believes each POV has a unique advantage. The first person commands trust and authority through the “I”. The second person uses “you” to establish intimacy with the reader. While the third person controls the pace with “he/she” pronouns.

Periodically changing POV allows writers to play to each strength. Like the forms of communication in tip 1, these shifts create a conversational style that mimics how talented storytellers speak. See below:

“I never write with the windows open. Open windows drive me off the wall. You just can’t get any work done with open windows. A guy can go crazy when he’s not able to do his work.”

If you write non-fiction (e.g. blogs, articles, or ad copy) you probably do this already — weaving between first, second, and third person to control authority, intimacy, and pace.

This trick is more difficult in fiction. To include all three POVs, you must tell your story in the first person. However, pulling this off produces an “undeclared narrator” — a cool effect in which the central character both tells and comments on their narrative.

Tip 3: Combine Big And Little Voice

According to Palahniuk, most stories contain a “big” and “little” voice. Little voice shows the audience smells, sounds, flavors, and actions. And big voice illuminates the significance of these smaller details.

In cinema, the big voice often comes in a voiceover, and the little voice is as individual scenes in a movie. Think of Goodfellas. The film intersperses moments of action with narrator Henry Hills’ monologues about life in the mob.

In writing, a big voice zooms out to discuss larger themes with the reader. Little voice depicts plot and character. In John Steinbeck’s East Of Eden, a big voice details the changing history of the Salinas Valley, while a little voice gives specific details about the lives of the Trask and Hamilton families.

Chuck encourages writers to include both voices in their writing but suggests being selective about when to apply each. He believes little voice works best for detail and action. While big voice is better for setting up themes and showing large passages of time.

However, he warns against too much big voice. Constant musing slows the momentum of your work and takes readers out of the plot. Both “no no’s” for fiction writers.

Tip 4: Use Attributions To Build Tension

Attributions denote who said what in a dialogue. Think “John stated”. “Sarah asked”. “Conor screamed”.

Beyond this practical function, attributions can build emphasis and tension within the dialogue. See the sentence below:

“Honey, I think we should see other people,” said Greg.

Now notice the effect of moving the phrase “said Greg” towards the beginning of the sentence.

“Honey,” said Greg, “I think we should see other people.”

The second example uses the attribution to create what Chuck calls a “beat of nothing” — a rhetorical trick that produces the same effect as a rest in music.

The idea is readers don’t subvocalize attributions like “he said”. Instead, they visually leap over them and land harder on the dialogue that follows.

This leads to more emphasis on the second part of the dialogue. In the example above, the turn “I think we should see other people” hits harder because it’s preceded by an attribution. A couple more examples to prove the point:

“Bu.. But…” stuttered James “I couldn’t possibly kidnap my boss’s only child.”

“Doctor,” said Mary, “I think I’m coming down with something”

Like previous suggestions, this works best in moderation. Target important parts in your dialogue, and apply the technique to make them stick out to your reader.

Tip 5: Write With Physicality

Throughout “Consider This”, Chuck reminds writers that “language is not our first language”.

Although language helps us verbalize our thoughts, it makes up a small part of our communication. Experts claim 93% of communication is non-verbal. Through inspecting posture, body language, and tone of voice we are better able to read people’s intentions than listening to what they say.

Imagine someone barks “move out of the way” with a puffed chest and barrel toned voice, you’re more likely to obey than if they made the command hunched over staring at the floor.

Your writing should mirror the way we communicate. Chuck says it’s helpful to make:

“A list of all the quick wordless gestures you use every day. The thumbs-up. The thumb-and-index finger “okay” sign. Knocking your fist lightly on your forehead to “recall” something.”

Think of these gestures as shortcuts to expressing ideas and emotions. If you find your work overloaded with dialogue or description, plug one in to produce the same effect.

Tip 6: Avoid Abstract And “To Be” Verbs

Not all verbs are created equal. You probably know this in your gut, but now science backs it up. Chuck cites a recent study by Scientific America that found different verbs trigger different parts of a reader’s brain.

“When they read an active, physical verb like “step” or “kick” or “grabbed,” the verb activates the part of their brain responsible for that movement. Your brain responds as if you’re actually swimming, having a stroke, or sneezing.”

In contrast, “to be” and abstract verbs like “believe” or “remember” don’t cause the same sort of cognitive mirroring.

Compare the two passages from Consider This. I’ve highlighted the verbs in each to emphasize the point:

“Arlene was at the door. She had long, brown hair, her face had a look of shock surprised. She was taller than he remembers.”

And …

“Arlene stepped into view, framed by the open doorway. With one gloved hand, she brushed her long, brown hair away from her face. Her penciled eye-brows arched in surprise.”

Can you feel the difference? Active verbs like “step” and “frame” allow us to form a mental picture of what’s happening. While the “to be” verbs in the first example simply tell us what to think.

When possible, replace abstractions with physical verbs. Actions that occur in space and time are naturally easier for readers to imagine and connect with.

Tip 7: Describes Things The Way People See Them

When writing descriptions, Chuck points out:

“People measure stuff — money, strength, time, weight — in very personal ways. A city isn’t so many miles from another city, it’s so many songs on the radio. Two hundred pounds isn’t two hundred pounds, it’s that dumbbell at the gym that no one touched.”

While we have standardized units of measurements (i.e. yards, feet, miles), we perceive objects and events subjectively. Our brain uses mental shortcuts to make sense of the world.

Objective details may be practical for giving directions, but they fail to spark a reader’s imagination. We need to find more specific, personal ways to describe our world and characters.

Chuck says this means cutting out generalities. No more using vague descriptions like “a 6’5 tall man” or “valley that stretch miles”.

Instead, we have “a man with the towering stature of an NBA forward”. And “a valley that stretches the length of a dozen football fields.”

If you have trouble with this, review the previous tips. Remember that readers respond to physical language and visceral descriptions. Find concrete, visual images that will help them draw to mind what you’re trying to describe.

The late night talk show is a tradition as old as television. For generations we’ve come together to gawk at our favorite stars. Watch, slack-jawed and wide eyed, as they regal us with stories of glitz, glamour, and the good life.

Unfortunately, I could never join the club.

For me, the talk show represented a shameless form of star worship. How could a serious consumer of culture enjoy them? The fake laughter. The manufactured drama. The over the top host. It all screams phony!

But recently I’ve reconsidered…

Talk shows are one of the few remaining forms of oral storytelling consumed on a wide scale. Sure, they may be canned and corny, but they offer actionable lessons on how to create character, build anticipation, and empathize with an audience. These are techniques anyone who writes for a living, or just wants to improve their ability to tell a story, can benefit from.

In this article, I’ve compiled seven annoying but effective Talk Show tips for telling a story. These tips work across storytelling mediums — oral, writing, film-making. Below I’ve listed each technique, provided a video of a celebrity using it, and broken down how you can put them into practice. Check it out below:

Trick 1: Make It Relatable

Telling a good talk show story is like walking a tightrope between two points. On one end, we enjoy extravagant tales. Viewers tune in every week because celebrities fascinate us. Who doesn’t crave a peek into the lives of the rich and powerful?

On the other end, we need to relate to some part of the story. Celebrities enjoy luxuries alien to most of us. Think private catering. Mountains of fan mail. An army of personal assistants. A skilled storyteller must explain this lavish lifestyle in a way the average Joe or Jane can understand.

Take the clip above from Nirvana Drummer and Foo Fighters’ front man Dave Grohl. His story is ridiculous even by talk show standards. It’s about the time he jammed with Paul McCartney and Taylor Swift at a private party.

Unless you’re Rock royalty, you’ve probably never had a similar experience. But Dave hooks us in by mentioning how much he idolized Paul McCartney growing up, and revealing “he learned guitar through playing Beatles songs.” This detail transforms the experience from something foreign (partying with rock stars) to something relatable (being a child and looking up to your hero).

Celebrity or not, your first job as a storyteller is to build this type of rapport. Your story likely contains people, places, and problems unfamiliar to the audience. To bridge the gap, find feelings, themes, and experiences they can relate to, and highlight them early and often.

If you’re telling a story about surfing with your brother, don’t fixate on insider details about how to catch waves. Instead, focus on your relationship with your sibling, the thrill of trying something new, the fear and triumph that comes from breaking outside your comfort zone. The audience can grasp onto these details. They invite them to bring their unique experiences into your personal story.

Trick 2: Highlight Your Imperfections

Failed auditions. Awkward run-ins with fans. Cringeworthy childhood photos. These are talk show fodder. When the cameras roll, celebrities go the extra mile to dress themselves down and remind us that fame absolves no one from life’s embarrassments.

Actress Jennifer Lawrence is a master at playful self deprecation. In the clip above, she admits wetting the bed into her teens. To make matters worse, she was so oblivious that she bragged about it to her friends.

This type of self deprecation is especially powerful when used by someone high-status. It reminds us that fallibility is our connective tissue — life’s great equalizer. It affects both the extraordinary and the painfully ordinary. Each of us, no matter how rich or famous, are imperfect people trying our best in an imperfect world.

In your own stories, this means acknowledging the imperfections of your character. If you’re being light-hearted, talk about something embarrassing that happened to you (bonus points if it’s an experience relatable to your audience). If you’re aiming to uplift, reveal a shortcoming and tell a story about how you succeeded in spite of it.

In a fictional story, have your character humble themselves for the audience. You need not make them goofy or groveling — there is a difference between pity and empathy. But make them human. Give them scars to show and challenges to overcome. Give us someone to root for!

Trick 3: Name Drop

No talk show appearance is complete without at least a dozen name drops. Over the course of an interview even modest stars feel compelled to shout out the directors they’ve worked with, their cool co-stars, all the way down to their hair stylist. It’s a fun way of reminding the audience: “I live a cool life and have the Rolodex to prove it.”

In the clip above comedian Bill Hader and host Jimmy Kimmel spend two minutes bonding over their famous friends and team of assistants before Hader regains his self-awareness and remarks “wow we sound like a bunch of jerks.”

While some find this not-so-subtle form of boasting distasteful, most of us enjoy it. The dirty truth is underneath polite appearances we’re natural voyeurs and gossips. There is a reason tabloid magazines line grocery aisles and TMZ cracks millions of visitors a month. Even being a second hand observer of celebrity life gives us a giddy feeling. It’s like being a fly on the wall of a party we didn’t get an invitation to.

If you’ve rubbed shoulders with someone noteworthy, drop their name. This doesn’t have to be a Hollywood A-lister, but it should be someone the audience recognizes: the owner of your company, a notorious member of the family, a local celebrity. Simply dropping the right name in the right situation is enough to grab an audience’s attention.

You can apply this trick in fiction by building a character’s notoriety off screen. Establish their reputation before introducing them to the audience. Better yet, initiate your fans into an exclusive group or fictional fraternity. Make them feel a part of a cool cabal of characters they’d be proud to brag about.

Trick 4: Start With A Tease

“Why were you in prison, Chris Hemsworth?”

This question, taken from the video above, is an example of a tease. A tease occurs when someone sets up a story by hinting at an exciting piece of information to come. In the world of talk shows, the host and guest work in tandem to tease the story. The host will often ask a canned question to bait the guest into revealing something about themselves.

Is it a cheap trick? A little bit. But it’s an effective one. A well-told tease lays out the premise of the story, letting the audience know what to expect. And creates anticipation by suggesting, but not disclosing, the action to come.

In your personal stories you can follow the Chris Hemsworth example and tease with a question. Set yourself up by presenting a premise like this.

“Have I ever told you about the time a group of Hare Krishna’s held me up at gunpoint?”

The tease doesn’t need to come as a question. Draw in your audience by starting in the middle of the action, or the moment before the action starts. See the example below from Hunter S Thompson’s Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas.

‘We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold’

On the smallest scale, a tease can be a single word. Think “Rosebud” in Citizen Kane. The protagonist’s dying words act as a catalyst for the story. Orson Welles teases us with “Rosebud” then spends the rest of the film traveling back in time to understand the meaning.

Trick 5: Confirm Character

Being a celebrity, in part, means playing a character. Crafting a public persona based on your body of work, press appearances, and private affairs. This character can be everyone from the reckless playboy. To the quirky nice gal. To the honest “every man”.

Celebrities use talk shows as a public space to build their character. Having a widely watched platform allows them to divulge information that stresses the parts of their personality they want known to the world.

In the video up top Tina Fey talks about a recent fender bender. Her GPS got nixed up, and clueless Tina crossed three lanes of traffic to make her turn. This story connects with the audience for several reasons. First, it’s entertaining. But on a deeper level the story connects because it underscores Tina Fey’s most likable traits.

Stories like this bond the subject and audience. It gives us the impression we truly know someone. A feeling similar to the one we get with an old friend or family member. The kind that makes us smirk to ourselves and think “she would TOTALLY do that.”

Confirming character is easiest to do when the audience knows something about the person in question. If you’re telling a story about yourself, highlight or exaggerate an obvious part of your personality. For instance, if you’re clumsy, tell a story about the time your legs buckled out, and you broke a family heirloom.

This takes more work if the audience is unfamiliar with your character. As the storyteller, it is your job to feed them information about who your character is, what sets them off, the quirks that get them in trouble again and again.

Once the audience knows the character’s temperament, put them in situations which heighten it. We love this! Take Homer Simpson. His clueless, dopey antics have cracked up audiences for 32 seasons. His character can stay constant, as long as writers put him in new situations each week.

Trick 6: Play Against Character

Wait! Doesn’t this contradict the trick above? Yes and no.

As an audience, we have two conflicting needs in a story: stability and change. Confirming character appeals to the first need. It gives us the warm and cozy feeling that comes with familiarity. However, too much familiarity bores us. To remain interested, we need surprise, change, contradiction.

Celebrities meet both needs by telling stories that play to their public image (see above) and ones that go against it. An example of this would be a badass action star talking about fostering puppies in their spare time. Or a normally withdrawn actress sharing a time she went loose at a party.

We know Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson as an iron bodied wrestler. So it surprises us when he blabs about his monthly cheat meal — the rare occasion when he ignores his strict diet and pigs out. The surprise goes further when he reveals he eats his meal “alone like a troll”, not something you expect from someone cool and composed like The Rock.

In your own stories, toy with the audience’s expectations by sharing a time you broke character. Talk about something you’ve done that contradicts people’s perception of you. Paint a more complex picture of yourself, one that surprises even the people closest to you.

In a more traditional narrative, playing against character requires creating a character the audience thinks they know, then having them do the unexpected. This is a delicate trick. If someone acts completely out of character, we don’t buy it. But when done well, this is perhaps the most impressive feat a storyteller can pull off.

Take the television series Breaking Bad. The thrill of the show is watching Walter White’s character transform from balmy chemistry teacher to ruthless drug dealer with one improbable act after the other.

Trick 7: Go Beyond Words

For our last trick, let’s revisit one of the most notorious talk show appearances of all-time. To jog your memory, I’ll leave this picture:

For those unfamiliar, this is Tom Cruise’s couch jumping, love gushing, and all around cringe inducing appearance on the Oprah Winfrey Show. Truth be told, I don’t remember a word Tom Cruise said during the interview. But the image of him flailing around in a near-manic hysteria is forever branded in my brain.

Is there a lesson to learn in Tom’s theatrics? I think so. It proves the words spoken only tell part of a story — often a small part. Science backs this up. A recent study found at least 70% of communication is non-verbal. What we say is not as important as what we do when we speak. Our actions, movements, intonation, and physicality.

For a better example, check out the clip of Breaking Bad’s Bryan Cranston recounting the time he and his wife got caught making love on their honeymoon. Observe how Cranston shifts his voice and body to highlight different parts of the story. Notice how he stimulates our senses so we feel like we’re present at the scene.

For oral stories, follow Cranston’s lead. Raise your voice to create emphasis. Lower it to build tension. Move your hands to create and close space. Contort the body so the audience can see what’s happening.

To produce a similar effect on page or screen, reveal setting and character by evoking the senses. Never convey motivation and emotion through words. Instead of having someone say how they feel, have them express it through movement, action, body language. The written and spoken word are a tiny part of how we exchange information. Look for visceral ways to engross your audience.

The year was 1968. Chaos enveloped the globe. In the United States, civil rights and anti-war activists clashed over the escalating conflict in Vietnam. The assassination of political and civil rights leaders like Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King spread distrust and panic amongst the populace.

In Europe, Soviet tanks rolled in the streets of Prague as the Kremlin tightened an iron grip around its empire. Student protestors poured into the streets of Paris, nearly shutting down the French capital.

John Lennon and The Beatles felt this mounting tension. As the calendar year turned, the band departed to India for a meditation retreat. It was here on the rolling hills of Rishikesh where Lennon sketched out the song Revolution — the group’s response to the growing unrest.

In the coming months Lennon’s idea would sprawl into three separate tracks. Two conventional tunes released on record and as a single, and one spaced-out song collage that remains the most experimental and controversial recording in the group’s catalog.

While Revolution may not rank as the most popular Beatles song, its genesis and influence is among the most fascinating. It shows both the band responding to the times, and gives us a glimpse at the creative process in the later stages of their career. Here is a brief look at the recording and reception of Revolution.

Origins

The Beatles never intended to be a political band. In fact, manager Brian Epstein did everything he could to steer the band away from speaking about social issues. He wanted the group to remain a pop act, not a political organization.

But as cultural norms shifted in the 60s, the group changed with them. The band began experimenting with psychedelic drugs and eastern spirituality. By 1968, the once lovable mop topped quartet now sported shaggy hair and hippy clothing.

Despite their evolution, the group had yet to take a stand on the collective calls for rebellion and dissent. This silence rankled leaders of the counterculture. French film-maker Jean Luc-Goddard even accused the group of being “corrupted by money”.

These accusations, as well as Epstein’s death in 1967, compelled the band to clarify their position. As Lennon explained to Rolling Stone Magazine:

“I had been thinking about it up in the hills in India. I still had this ‘God will save us’ feeling about it, that it’s going to be all right. That’s why I did it: I wanted to talk, I wanted to say my piece about revolution. I wanted to tell you, or whoever listens, to communicate, to say ‘What do you say? This is what I say.”

Lennon returned to the UK determined to address the subject in song.

Early Recording (Take 18)

On May 30th 1968, The Beatles began recording Revolution. Lennon paired his lyrics with a down tempo blues guitar riff.

On the last take of the day (known as Take 18 in Beatles lore), the group broke out into an extended jam session. The final 6 minutes of the recording featured improvisational and vocal interludes with members of the group laughing and screeching into the microphone. This psyched out coda would provide the inspiration for Revolution 9.

While Take 18 never made it onto any Beatles albums, it provided the skeleton for all three versions of the song. It was released to the public as part of the 50th anniversary edition of The White Album. Check it out below:

Revolution 1

The track titled “Revolution 1” is one of the two versions of the song released on the White Album. It’s a more polished recording of the first four minutes of Take 18. On the track producer George Martin removes the experimental outro and adds horns and backing vocals.

Revolution 1 is perhaps the most stripped-down version of the song. It’s bare boned and moves at a crawling tempo. This shows in both the music and lyrics.

In this rendition, Lennon seems even more unsure of where he stands on the revolution. After delivering the line “but when you talk about destruction, don’t you know you can count me out” he meekly adds the word “in” — as if to appease all sides.

Revolution (Single Version)

Lennon remained determined to release Revolution as a single. However, he received push back from his bandmates. Both Paul McCartney and George Harrison thought the tune was too slow to catch the ears of the audience. They doubted it could chart as a single.

Eventually the band reached a compromise. They would record a more upbeat version of the song to release as a single, and plug the slow version towards the end of their ever-expanding White Album.

The single version of Revolution injected the song with a hard rock energy. It replaces the down tempo blues with distorted guitars. The lyrics themselves take a more decisive stand with Lennon firmly stating that if you talk about destruction, you can “count him out.”

Despite Lennon’s insistence, Revolution did not end up as a single. It served as a B-side to McCartney’s smash hit Hey Jude. However, this recording remains the most popular version of the song, and continues to be a fan favorite.

Revolution 9

The final version of Revolution bears little resemblance to the two previous iterations of the song.

In fact, “song” might not be the most accurate word for the recording. Lennon describes Revolution 9 as a sound collage. It stretches the final 6 minutes of the Take 18 and adds additional layers, overdubs, effects, and tape loops. Lennon says:

“That was a picture I painted in sound of the revolution, which was complete murder and killing and people screaming and kids crying and all that, which is what I really thought it would be.”

There is a wide range of opinions on Revolution 9. Many fans consider it the worst thing The Beatles’ ever released. While some critics praised the groups bold experimentation. Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner said: “Revolution 9” was “beautifully organized” and “had more political impact than “Revolution 1”

Love it or hate it, the song leaves an impression. Listen below if you dare:

Legacy

Did The Beatles Revolution stick it to the establishment and shake the world?

Not really.

The song was met with a tepid response from the counterculture. Many ignored Lennon’s feeble endorsement of revolution, and dismissed his insistence that all “would be alright”. The song reached peak infamy when Apple Computer used it in a television ad.

As a single Revolution enjoyed modest success. It peaked at number 12 on the Billboard music chart (a relatively unimpressive accomplishment for Beatles standards). It remains a popular song, but nowhere near as beloved as songs like Let It Be and Hey Jude (the song released ahead of Revolution as a single).

The experimental Revolution 9 birthed its own twisted legacy. It fueled the “Paul is dead” rumors. Some saw its chaotic structure as a sign of the Apocalypse — most notably cult leader Charles Manson who references the song multiple times in his manifesto.

While Revolution may not have changed the world, it provides a fascinating look at the band and the times. It shows how the seeds of an idea can morph into three entirely different products- each inspiring a legacy of its own.

For that alone it stands out as a worthy subject of discussion.

What do we do with suffering?

This is a question Nick Cave — author, musician, and Bad Seeds front man — can answer better than most. The death of his son inspired his last albums, Skeleton Tree and Ghosteen– two highlights in an impressive and expansive discography.

Last month, Cave experienced another tragedy with the passing of his lifelong collaborator Anita Lane. Following the event, a fan wrote to Cave asking if there is value in suffering. And wondering if there is anything we can do to stop from being crushed beneath it’s unbearable weight?

He had this to say:

“What do we do with suffering? As far as I can see, we have two choices — we either transform our suffering into something else, or we hold on to it, and eventually pass it on.”

Cave frames the utility of suffering not as a question, but a choice.

To live is to suffer. It’s inevitable — a painful price for being human. All of us experience death, decay, heartbreak, betrayal. We cannot avoid this, but we can choose what we do with it:

Hold onto it.

Or transform it into something else.

To choose the second option Cave believes:

“We must acknowledge that all people suffer. By understanding that suffering is the universal unifying force, we can see people more compassionately, and this goes some way toward helping us forgive the world and ourselves. By acting compassionately we reduce the world’s net suffering, and defiantly rehabilitate the world. It is an alchemical act that transforms pain into beauty.”

In the moment, suffering acts as an agent of alienation- a reminder of the personal toll of the world’s woes. But when viewed broadly, suffering unites us.

We all suffer. This is a fact so universal that the Buddha made it the First Noble Truth of his religion. The philosophies of Existentialists like Albert Camus and Victor Frankl hinge on the existence of suffering and our ability to find meaning in its midst.

To some, this is unwelcome information. Who wants to be reminded that everyone on the planet is bonded by suffering? But as Cave points out, this realization opens the door for healing and empathy. It connects us. Allows us to act compassionately, which ultimately minimizes the net suffering in the world.

The alternative, to hold onto our pain, leads to something much more sinister:

“To not transform our suffering and instead transmit our pain to others, in the form of abuse, torture, hatred, misanthropy, cynicism, blaming and victimhood, compounds the world’s suffering. Most sin is simply one person’s suffering passed on to another.”

When we refuse to relinquish our suffering, we feed it and pass it on. This choice shrinks us. It isolates us. It latches on to the worst parts of ourselves and spreads them like a virus.

It’s tempting to dismiss the idea of karma, but through this lens it makes sense. Acting in bad faith not only transmits your pain, but poisons the world we all live in. Everyone, you included, is worse off for it.

So, ultimately what is the utility of our suffering?

Cave asserts it affords us the opportunity to become better human beings.

The ability to transform that which feels personal and painful into something uniting and affirming is perhaps the most beautiful act we’re capable of. As Cave says: it is the engine of our redemption.

This idea gives me hope. I hope it does for you too.

* Click here for link to Cave’s original blog

**For more cool musings from Nick, sign up for his excellent newsletter The Red Hand File

I recently stumbled across a TED Talk from actor Ethan Hawke. In the presentation, Hawke cites the ability to play the fool as the essential part of the creative process.

As someone who’s long been a proponent of making silly art and giving yourself permission to suck, the idea of playing the fool stuck with me.

It’s a role we’ve all played at times in our lives — especially if you’ve chosen to do creative work. In a world full of fools, we are perhaps the biggest fools of them all.

This may sound like a slight, but it shouldn’t!

The fool may be disparaged in polite society, but in the works of fiction and philosophy he is one of the most celebrated characters.

Shakespearean fools were often the wisest folks in the realm. Their lowly status allowed them to speak defiant truths most dared not say.

Philosophers like Socrates embraced the role of the fool by proclaiming their ignorance and stating “the wise man knows he knows nothing.”

In Jungian mythology, the fool is the precursor to the hero. He is the one willing to humble himself for the greater good.

If the fool is indeed a noble character, what does it mean to play one?

Playing the fool means being open to possibility — the fact there is much in the world you don’t know.

Playing the fool means making daring choices in the face of uncertainty. And remaining at peace with the outcome.

Playing the fool means looking at the world with a light heart. If Shakespeare is correct, and all the world’s a stage, the fool sees the grand tale as a comedy rather than tragedy.

However, playing the fool occasionally means looking the part.

Putting yourself out there bare-faced for the world to see and falling short.

But in both life and art the fool is someone brave enough to look stupid. One who can shake off their mistakes and smile at their shortcomings.

For in the seeds of these shortcomings, there is the potential for something remarkable to grow. Something bold, daring, wild, and wonderful which would not exist if you had not made the choice to play the fool.

How do you write an engaging story?

One that sounds smooth and relatable — the type told around pubs and campfires- rather than the stiff, cold ones that can find their way on the page?

In his latest book, Fight Club author Chuck Palahniuk gives writers a recipe to create more natural, engaging stories. He distills this recipe into three forms of communication:

Description — Man walks into a bar

Instruction — Walk into a bar

Exclamation (onomatopoeia) — Viola!

See the three forms come together in the paragraph below:

A man walks into a bar and orders a margarita. Easy enough. Mix three parts tequila and two parts triple sec with one part lime juice, and — voila — that’s a margarita.

To get an idea of how this works, let’s break down each of the three types of communication separately.

Description

Description is a written account of a person, place, or object (ie the man walked into the bar and ordered a margarita )

Books and blogs are written accounts of particular people, subjects, and events. This means almost everything you read is a description.

So practice composing them. Copy your favorite passages. Look for ways to use more expressive language. 

But know description is only one ingredient. Combining strong descriptions with the next two items has the potential to bring more depth to your work.

Instruction

An instruction is a command to your audience. It allows you to give them useful, factual information directly.

For maximum effect, Palahniuk suggests you use short, punchy, active language for your descriptions: 

I.e “Pick up the phone”. “Walk towards the red car.” “Shoot the sheriff in the back.”

On its own, too much instruction turns into something more like a recipe than a story, but when combined with clear descriptions it adds a layer of information that engages the reader and builds your authority as an author.

Exclamation

If you’ve ever eavesdropped on someone telling a story at a bar, you’ve likely heard noises like:

Vhrrooom! Bang! Pow!

Exclamations (also called onomatopoeia) are an essential element of oral storytelling, yet they’re often ignored by writers. If you wish to be a more dynamic writer follow the bar-room raconteur’s lead and add some sound effects.

These devices punch up your story. They act as a chime that pulls in your reader, and signals the next thing is about to be important — so pay attention.

Palahniuk recommends stuffing exclamations in the middle of your sentences. In this position, they break up the two clauses and stress the last part of the passage. 

For example:

“Trapped all day, then could be next walk to toilet, pow-pow, clot knock out brain.”

Let’s Put It All Together

There you have it! A three ingredient recipe for natural storytelling. If you’re looking for an optimal ratio Palahniuk says to aim for:

“Three parts description, two parts instruction, one part exclamation.”

Because information on its own doesn’t make us better writers, let’s put the recipe to use.

Open up a fresh word document or pull out a pen and paper and test it out. I used the ideas to create the work below:

“The man picked his nose. As one does. Dig with the pointer finger. Search for treasure. Until — boom — he’s struck gold! He then flicks away his precious possession and starts over again.”

Let’s see what you can come up with.

During the 90s, The Simpsons writers’ room was a mecca for up-and-coming comedians.

Legends like Conan O’Brien, Greg Daniels, and Pixar’s Brad Bird cut their teeth working on the show. While many notable writers filled the chairs, one name towers above all in Simpson’s lore- John Swartzwelder.

Critics consider Swartzwelder the most prolific writer in Simpsons history. He was one of the chief architects of the show’s golden era. His sense of humor is so unique, writers call jokes in the same vein: “Swartzweldian.”

Despite his reputation, Swartzwelder shies away from the spotlight — a JD Salinger figure in the Comedy world. There are few photos of him, and he rarely mingles with the press. However, he recently sat down with the New Yorker to talk about his time on the show.

As you can imagine the interview was loaded with expert advice about the art and discipline of writing. Here are 5 pieces of “Swartzweldian” wisdom you can apply today.

Get The Hard Part Over Quickly

John Swartzwelder has fifty-nine writing credits on The Simpson — the most in the show’s history. When asked how he wrote with such stamina, he had this to say:

“I always write my scripts all the way through as fast as I can, the first day, if possible, putting in crap jokes and pattern dialogue — “Homer, I don’t want you to do that.” “Then I won’t do it.” Then the next day, when I get up, the script’s been written. It’s lousy, but it’s a script. The hard part is done.”

Swartzwelder’s writing process has much in common with fellow comedian Jerry Seinfeld’s, and Bird By Bird writer Anne Lamott’s. Both of whom recommend separating the activities of writing and editing, and producing a first draft as quickly as possible.

Why is this advice so popular?

Writing is diabolically difficult — it requires staring down a blank page, filling it with thoughts, and hoping they fall in exactly the right order.

By comparison, rewriting is easy. Words, no matter how imperfect, populate the page. They may require a tinker or tweak, but you now have something to work with.

The idea is simple enough, but I’ve found it difficult to follow. My ego simply can’t stand seeing my bad writing stinking up the page. Perhaps you can relate?

If so, Swartzwelder has a suggestion to de-personalize the process. Rather than getting stressed over your initial work, imagine a little elf has snuck into your office while you were asleep and done the crappy writing for you. All you have to do now is wake up and fix his mess.

Give Readers A Bang Upfront. And Then Another!

Since retiring from The Simpsons in 2003, John Swartzwelder has self-published 13 novels. While this tremendous output shows a love of the craft, Swartzwelder has some choice words about books.

“Nobody wants to read a book. You’ve got to catch their eye with something exciting in the first paragraph, while they’re in the process of throwing the book away. If it’s exciting enough, they’ll stop and read it. Then you’ve got to put something even more exciting in the second paragraph, to suck them in further. And so on. It’s exhausting for everybody, but it’s got to be done.”

This applies just as much to people writing on the web. The average person on the internet has a smorgasbord of content to choose from — Twitter feeds, YouTube clips, and an assortment of amusing cat memes to gorge on. If you want them to read your work, you need to begin with a bang! And follow it up with another!!

The second hand clicks even quicker on a digital clock. Now more than ever the audience needs reassurance that what they are about to read is worth their time. So don’t hold back! Give the goods up front. Hook the reader early, and they will happily stick around for the rest of the show.

Write Outside Your Field

Prior to landing a job on The Simpson’s staff, Swartzwelder spent years writing ad copy. Some might classify this past work as a career stumble — a detour from his true calling. But Swartzwelder says his days as a copywriter taught him to write in different styles, work with a team, and deliver on a deadline. He states:

“All ad copywriters are expected to write humor or scientific-sounding mumbo jumbo or any other kind of writing, whatever’s needed for the campaign. And they’re expected to write it fast, too, because it’s due tomorrow. Good training, actually.”

Swartzwelder is not the only notable writer who held an odd job at the beginning of their career.

Vonnegut began his career as a police reporter. Hemingway was a local journalist. Kafka spent most of his life working as an insurance assessor and wrote on the side.

While these early gigs aren’t glamorous, they left an imprint on the style of the authors above, and provided a training ground for them to master their craft.

It’s tempting to set lofty goals and laser focus on a particular style- but don’t limit yourself. Especially early in your career, take jobs outside your desired field that give you the opportunity to learn.

Travel Back In Time For Ideas

Swartzwelder created some of the most bizarre and unique Simpsons characters. Banjo-playing hobos, cigarette-smoking ventriloquist dummies, over-the-hill Country Western stars. When interviewer Mike Sacks asks where he got the ideas for these novel characters, Swartzwelder cites old movies and television programs he used to watch:

These old references give me more things to get humor out of, more raw material, than if I just confined myself to the things that happened this week.

I’ve talked before about the appeal to novelty — the human bias towards ideas which appear new. Today’s hyper-connected society has only juiced up this natural tendency.

Social media feeds provide up to the second updates from across the globe, and many writers work overtime trying to keep up. As a result, we ignore the annals of information and ideas from the past.

If you, like Swartzwelder, choose to dig in the past, you will discover a treasure trove of ideas missed or forgotten by the world. Paradoxically, it is often by looking back that we stumble upon our most novel work.

Many generations have lived before you. Take a minute to visit them and their ideas.

Write What You Would Want To Read

When asked how The Simpsons team created a show with such a broad appeal, Swartzwelder let out a verbal shrug and replied:

We just tried to make ourselves, and each other, laugh. Comedy writers. That was the audience. Luckily, a lot of other people, both kids and adults, liked the same jokes we liked.

The quote above tempted me to label the section “write for yourself”, but I’ve always found that advice misleading. It looks nice on paper, but when taken at face value it leads to bad habits — self indulgent writing, ignoring the audience, mistaking public work for a private diary.

That’s why instead I went with “write what you would want to read.” I find these words truer to life, and closer to the spirit of Swartzwelder’s quote.

When you look at the most beloved creative works, few follow a strict formula. Their success is often unpredictable and inexplicable. However, most have this in common — they’re made by talented people creating something they would want to consume.

Let these words guide your own work. Write the jokes which make you laugh. The blog you would find helpful. The novel you would sit down and read. If the work finds an audience, all the better! If not, at least you enjoyed making it.

Can you remember Kindergarten art class?

For me, it was magic. I can recall memories of staring in awe at a blank page. Filling it with splashes of colors and patterns. And proudly displaying my crude (and likely crappy) work to my parents. It might not hang at the Louvre, but it sure as hell hung on our refrigerator door. The little dude above was one happy camper.

Flash forward a few years…

This slightly older, and scowling version of myself sat in a similar classroom in front of a similarly blank page. Only this pimply, stumbled faced, teenage Tony’s heart raced with terror.

Instead of getting to work he thought: What the heck am I going to make? What if it sucks? What will the girls — who were looking better by the day — think of it? A once exciting grade school art project had turned into a full blown episode of adolescent angst.

What the hell happened?

Unfortunately, sometime between 12 and 14 years old our awe-inspired inner children decide to take a nap. In this moment of slumber a nasty fellow sneaks in the door, steals the keys, and takes command of the ship. I call this nasty fellow: the inner critic.

Unlike his youthful counterpart, this inner critic is not someone you’d want to invite home for dinner. He’s a bit of a buzzkill. A natural complainer. For him nothing is good enough. He is all too happy to tear your terrific ideas into tiny shreds.

I’ve tried on multiple occasions to evict this unwelcome tenant, and give the keys back to the inner child. But every time I think I’ve gotten rid of the critic, he finds a way to sneak back in – the cheeky bastard!

I tried again. And again. And again. Until I got a strange idea…

What if both forces, the child and critic, could split the rent? What if there was a way to harness the wonder of the child and the discernment of the critic? Perhaps the two could get along after all.

To test this out I created:

The Inner Child And Critic Hug It Out Challenge

In this challenge, I want to give both the free flowing and hyper-critical parts of my writing process space to breath. For the next four weeks I will set aside two time slots — 30 to 60 minutes depending on my schedule.***

During the first time slot, my inner child is free to roam. Like a Kindergarten art class, this part of the process is all analog. This means I can plot out ideas on sketch pads, white boards, or note cards — but no computers, tablets, or smart phones allowed.

When the clock goes off, playtime is over. The inner critic is let in and he has (30 to 60 minutes) to turn the child’s mess into something I can post on my blog.

Does this all seem a little silly to you? It should! But there is a reason behind the silliness.

Writing well, or being creative in general, is about balancing moments of openness & spontaneity (ie inner child) with periods of focus and precision (inner critic). This is echoed in the advice of everyone from famous Comedians like Jerry Seinfeld to Hollywood Director’s like Pete Docter.

My hope is to learn more about each part of the process — and find a sane way to integrate the two together (if possible).

There’s too much fighting in the world! I say it’s time for critics and children to put aside their differences and hug it out. Let’s get started!

***Rules and time limits subject to change on the neurotic whims of the creator.

Last night I completed my 100 day writing challenge. For over three months, I plopped down by my laptop and hammered out at least five hundred words.

I did this under the pretense that showing up every day would make me a better writer — or at least suck a little less (see image above).

Did the challenge help achieve this goal? I like to think so, but I’ll leave that to the discretion of the reader.

The experience did teach me a few lessons about building a writing habit, coming up with ideas, and managing the highs and lows of the creative process. These lessons helped me complete my project, and I believe fellow writers will find them useful.

Below are the seven lessons I learned from writing for 100 days straight.

Lesson 1: Set An Attainable Writing Goal

Consistency and managing expectations: this remarkably unsexy duo is the key to sustaining a daily writing habit.

When setting a goal, it’s tempting to be ambitious. We imagine how much we’d write if we woke up with a full tank of energy and a free schedule, then use that as a target.

This is simply not realistic. Most days you will not roll out of bed eager to work. On the days you do, you will often find yourself hampered down with real world responsibilities: deadlines, errands to run, screaming kids.

Instead of thinking about how much you’d write on a perfect day, consider how much you could get done on a bad day — and make that your goal.

Don’t freak out if your benchmark seems small. Remember this is simply a minimum requirement, there is nothing stopping you from writing more.

For the challenge, I set a goal of either an hour of writing or 500 words. These numbers aren’t sacred, they are simply what worked with my schedule. You’re welcome to increase or shrink them to your liking.

Lesson 2: They’ll Be Duds Along The Way

With a week left in the challenge, I made the regrettable choice of reading some of my old posts. Poor decision! I ended up quarreling with my work and cursing the past version of myself foolish enough to publish it. I almost gave up with 7 days left.

It’s natural for writers to be embarrassed by past work. Most of the time this embarrassment is an overreaction — a healthy sign of your improvement. However, occasionally you’ll unearth a dud — a certified stinker, you’re ashamed to have written.

If you find one, don’t freak out. Duds are part of the process. Both beginners and accomplished authors make them — If you don’t believe me, look at your favorite writer’s body of work. I can guarantee there’s at least a dud or two in there.

We like to believe progress is linear, that each item we put out must be better than the last. This isn’t the case. For factors unknown and often out of your control, we can’t always churn out our best work.

If you’re feeling down about something you wrote, remember the mindful mantra: Simply Begin Again. Forget the past. Each project affords a new opportunity to restart and try again.

Lesson 3: Favor Exciting Ideas Over “Good” Ones

I swiped this piece of advice from Pixar Director Pete Docter. There’s a common belief that good writing is the natural result of a good idea. This misconception causes some to hunt for the “perfect idea” rather than sitting down to write.

In reality, an idea that seems “too good to fail” is an ordinary idea that someone took the time and care to mold into something great. Focusing too much on the idea itself ignores the tough work that went into it.

I’ve found the best way to endure this tough work, is to tackle an idea that excites you. One you’d be happy to write about, whether it succeeded or failed.

Keep this in mind when choosing which project to start on. Use excitement as the criteria for your choice, and avoid lumping ideas into categories like “good” or “bad”.

Lesson 4: Treat Writing And Editing As Separate Activities

This is one of the stock pieces of advice I’d filed under “good to know” and never implemented. But after seeing personal heroes like Jerry Seinfeld emphasize the distinction, I made a point to remind myself:

Writing and editing are not the same things and should not be treated as such.

Writing is free flowing. Your goal is to get ideas on the page in their crudest form — misspellings and typos be damned! In this phase the audience has not entered the fray, your work is for you and you alone.

Editing is exacting. You’re paring and pruning your work into something readable for an audience. In this part of the process you’re concerned with grammar, punctuation, and coherence.

Since the two are separate activities, I recommend focusing on one or the other during your writing sessions. Avoid editing while you write and writing while you edit.

Something I’ve found helpful is using different programs for the two phases. For writing, I use a word processor with spelling and grammar suggestions turned off — nothing sucks you out of the flow of writing like seeing clusters of squiggly lines on a page.

When I’m finished, I’ll paste my work into a program like Grammarly or ProWritingAid to edit.

Lesson 5: Give Your Readers A Reason To Care

When a reader clicks on something you wrote, a single question is looping over in their mind.

Why should I care?

You may have a knee jerk reaction to this: How dare they! People should judge my work on its own merits. How can someone be so egotistical?

But think about it from their perspective: anyone with an internet connection has an endless stream of content to choose from, why should they give you their attention without a reason to care?

A “reason to care’’ is a promise to your reader. A promise that your work is worth their time. This promise can come in many forms: a solution to one of their problems, a distraction from their dull drum life, a story that will amuse and entertain them.

Whatever the reason, say it loud and say it up front. Reassure your audience they have something to gain by reading on.

Lesson 6: Make Peace With Your Neuroses

If you’ve chosen the tiresome, difficult, maddening — and occasionally satisfying vocation of writing, I’m guessing you have a quirk or two.

These peculiarities often fuel your work, but other times they give you the urge to rip out what little hair you have left, and toss your computer off the 3rd floor balcony.

You may look for strategies to outwork or outwit your neuroses. But over the last 100 days, I’ve found it’s better to make peace with them. They’re a part of your personality, you couldn’t will away these mental ticks if you wanted to. Try to work with rather than against them.

Are you most productive past midnight? Good! Scribble away as the world is asleep.

Do you do some of your best writing on the toilet, as I do? Even better! Get to work with your draws down.

Must a treasured toy or trinket watch over your shoulder as you write? No problem! Let your guardian angel’s watchful eye aid your endeavors.

Ask around. There’s “no one size fits all” way to write. Each author, you included, may have an odd-ball way of going about things. If this suits you, stick with it! Let you work speaks for itself.

Lesson 7: Write For The Long Game

Marking the 100th “X” on my calendar brought about a bittersweet feeling. On one hand, I was proud I’d completed the challenge — writing every day is hard for a couple weeks, and even more difficult over a three-month period.

However, completing my chart reminded me how much work I had left to do. During the daily grind, 100 days feels like forever. But when it’s over, you realize it’s a blip in time.

Becoming a better writer, or mastering any skill, is a lifetime project. It takes years to feel comfortable, and decades to get “good” — however you define that. Author David Sedaris says he wrote every day for 15 years before getting published.

As you move forward, you’ll likely come across an infuriating truth: progress is undetectable. It occurs so slowly, it’s difficult to notice. And when you do, it rarely occurs in the way you expect.

If you dare to write, know you are running a marathon and not a sprint. Growth means incremental gains over a long period. Making these small strides requires a leap of faith — an ability to truck on, often when you feel you’re not making any headway.

The sooner you accept this, the sooner you can get to work. So stick around. Look ahead. And keep playing for the long game.

*** Note: If you’re interested in starting a 100 day challenge here’s a link to the chart I used. If you want to start smaller here’s a link to the 30 day version.