The Godfather’s journey from unlikely best-seller to silver-screen classic is an epic tale in and of itself. One filled with contention, compromise, and ultimately triumph. Former Paramount President Of Pictures Robert Evans describes it as “more volatile than the war the Corleone family fought on screen.”

While the fraught production wasn’t necessarily pleasant for those involved, it delivered a trail of bread crumbs for film geeks to feast on. With the movie’s 50th anniversary just a year away, I wanted to share some of my favorite behind the scenes stories and footage from the film:

Coppola’s Godfather Notebook

Coppola acknowledges his early disdain for Mario Puzo’s novel. On his first read, he reportedly stopped 60 pages in — disgusted by one of the book’s graphic sex scenes. When he agreed to direct the film, however, he had a change of heart.

On his second go around, the film’s director appreciated the book. He describes it as “revealing a story that was a metaphor for American capitalism in the tale of a great king with three sons.”

Before production, Coppola created a log with detailed notes for each page of the book. He later released this log to the public – marketed as “The Godfather Notebook”. If you have $80 to spare you can purchase a hardcopy edition.

If you wish to save your money, take a glance at the picture above. The scribbles on page remind us of the meticulous work that goes into adapting a book to screen.

Brando’s Makeup

Marlon Brando was only 47 when he accepted the part of Vito Corleone. It took hours in the makeup room to transform the middle aged actor into the elder Mafia Boss.

While Dick Smith (the film’s makeup artist) was partly responsible for the transformation, Brando himself created the character’s image in his audition tape. In the footage, Brando appeared with his hair greased back with shoe polish. He stuffed tissue paper in his mouth to produce the Godfather’s hanging jowls and raspy voice.

This early take created the blueprint for Vito’s look and mannerisms. It also convinced the reluctant Paramount, to cast the troubled actor.

Cue Cards On Robert Duvall

During the film’s shoot Marlon Brando requested cue cards with his lines. The crew usually found ways to put these cards on props, but occasionally Brando’s co-stars would have to wear them on set. The photo above shows Robert Duval with one of these cards.

There is still much dispute about why Brando used cue cards. Some claim it allowed him to act more spontaneous, others say the actor was simply lazy. In either case, the young actors in the cast- many of whom grew up worshipping Brando- were happy to help him out.

Robert De Niro As Sonny

Robert De Niro’s first foray into The Godfather saga was an audition for Sonny Corleone. James Caan beat him out for the role, but De Niro’s audition left an impression on Director Francis Ford Coppola. He would later cast De Niro as a young Vito Corleone in The Godfather Part II — a role which would earn him his first Academy Award.

While we’re all thankful events turned out as they did, its fun to look at the footage and imagine an alternate universe where De Niro played Sonny.

Al Pacino’s Screen Tests

Al Pacino was one of the many controversial casting choices for the film. At the time, Paramount considered him ugly and unproven. Prior to The Godfather, he’d only appeared on screen in the forgettable indie flick “Panic At Needle Park.”

Pacino got the role in large part due to Coppola’s persistence. But the screentests above also impressed the studio: in particular his chemistry with Diane Keaton, the female co-lead for the film.

The footage includes line-readings from James Caan and Martin Sheen. Giving us two intriguing casting “what ifs” to ponder.

Introduction

On March 15, 1972 The Godfather premiered in New York. A late season snow fall marked the occasion. But the weather deterred no one; eager filmgoers snaked across six city blocks waiting to get in. The event itself was a star-studded affair. A gala of big shot executives, Hollywood royalty, and US diplomats; former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger flew in from Washington to attend the event.

A notable absence was Francis Ford Coppola. The film’s director fled to Paris; the Atlantic Ocean providing a physical and metaphorical boundary from the project he’d completed. Coppola wanted nothing to do with the glitzy premiere. In his mind, the audience would shun his work and the picture would end up a disaster.

While the crowd filed in their seats, he sat alone in Hôtel d’Alsace, blissfully unaware that in three hours the credits would roll to rapturous applause, and the film he believed doomed to fail would become the most celebrated movie in the world.

From our vantage point, the idea someone might butcher The Godfather seems preposterous. As critic Roger Ebert points out, “The Godfather comes closest to being a film everyone agrees is unquestionably great.” How could a Francis Ford Coppola mafia flick starring Marlon Brando and Al Pacino be anything less than a masterpiece? But at the time, its success was far from guaranteed.

At the time Marlon Brando was not the all-time great actor known for Streetcar Named Desire and On The Waterfront. He was a washed up shell of himself who studio heads saw as a black hole for their money.

At the time Al Pacino was not a screen legend with nine Academy Award nominations. He was a short, gawky, unproven stage actor who Coppola had to beg the studio to cast.

At the time Francis Ford Coppola himself was not the director responsible for the Godfather saga, The Conversation, and Apocalypse Now. He was a cavalier film geek, with a production company on the verge of bankruptcy.

This cast of characters helped create one of the most successful Hollywood movies. Only it almost wasn’t a success. That it was made at all and turned out as great as it did borders on the miraculous.

I could write an article telling you why the Godfather is an important film: listing the many reasons we now consider it a classic. But you already know these things. People have written and rewritten that piece for decades since its release.

The story I wish to tell is about why the movie you love, that your friends love, that just about every critic calls a masterpiece was almost a colossal failure. And what lessons, if any, we can take away from its unlikely triumph.

The Playboy Who Saved Paramount

In the year 1966, Hollywood teetered on the brink of crisis. The combined effect of antitrust lawsuits, the rise of television, and shifting cultural values threatened the core of the motion picture business. For a time it seemed the once impregnable silver screen empires of Jack Warner, Jesse L. Lasky, and William Fox were in jeopardy.

While all struggled, the crash rattled Paramount Pictures in particular. A trio of expensive flops (Lili, Catch-22, and The Molly Maguire) sunk the once mighty studio to the bottom rung of Hollywood. By some estimates Paramount was now the 9th most profitable studio.

To avoid ruin, Paramount sold stake in their company to media conglomerate Gulf & Western. Their fate rested in the hands of Austrian-American industrialist Charlie Bluhdorn, a man with little experience or interest in movies. Paramount made up only 5% of Gulf & Western’s holdings and early rumors were Bluhdorn would sell the studio lots for scraps. But Bluhdorn saw promise in the floundering studio, and he hired Robert Evans to revive it.

Industry insiders found Evans an odd man for the job. The 6’4 former actor had little experience running a studio. His most notable credit was a middling role in 1957’s The Sun Also Rises. Evans also enjoyed a scandalous reputation around town, more known for his love of cocaine and starlets than his ability to peddle pictures.

But this talk did not dissuade Evans. He wanted to show the Hollywood establishment he was more than an untried pretty boy. Out the gate he scored two quick wins with 1966’s Rosemary’s Baby and 1970’s Love Story. But Evans hungered for a mega hit, one that would make him a top tier producer and stamp his name in Hollywood history. In 1968 that hit walked into his office in the hands of a plump cigar loving Sicilian.

Mario Puzo: The Reluctant Best Seller

“If you don’t give me an advance, they’re going to break my arm” wailed Mario Puzo. The 45-year-old author faced a dire financial situation. His previous two books had failed. He owed money to creditors, bookies, and family members. His last hope to make good on his debts and save his career as a writer laid in the wrinkled envelope on Robert Evan’s desk.

Puzo would have preferred not to be in Evan’s office. And he would have preferred not to have written the manuscript sitting between him and the producer. Puzo, like many writers, considered himself an artist. An author of serious fiction; not commercial pulp. As he states:

“I had been a true believer in art. I didn’t believe in religion or love or women or men, I didn’t believe in society or philosophy. But I believed in art.”

In 1955, Puzo thought his artistic dreams had come true. He’d published his first novel, The Dark Arena, and critics praised both the book and its author. However, the rough realities of publishing soon kicked in. Puzo earned only $3,500 for his work.

Puzo’s second novel, The Fortunate Pilgrim, was 10 years in the making. He felt it was his best work yet, and critics agreed. The New York Times called it “a small classic”. Unfortunately, this “small classic” only brought in $3,000; less than its predecessor.

At age 45, Puzo grew tired of life as a struggling artist. He had debts to pay and a wife and two children to feed. Another overlooked critical darling would not keep the lights on. For his third novel, he would cast aside his artistic ambitions and write a bestseller. It was in the seeds of this desperation that The Godfather was born.

Puzo admits to writing The Godfather entirely through research. Coming of age in New York’s Hell’s Kitchen, he’d heard stories of the Mafia; whispers of a shady crime syndicate that lurked in the shadows of his neighborhood. But Puzo had never met a gangster in person. He pieced together the story and its characters using old crime reports and tips from local bookies.

After a few months of writing and research, Puzo had a 100 page manuscript for the book. Desperate for money up front, he showed the work to his publisher. They denied him an advance, weary of throwing money at another of the author’s duds. So Puzo turned to Robert Evans.

By all accounts neither Puzo nor his manuscript impressed Evans. Still, he paid 12,500 dollars for the film rights; a low-ball offer even for the struggling Paramount. Evans didn’t really care if he received a screenplay, and he certainly didn’t plan to do anything with a script if he got one. The money was more a way to get the desperate Puzo out of his office than a shrewd business maneuver.

But fortune changed in 1969, when the wrinkled manuscript that Puzo didn’t want to write and Evans didn’t want to adapt turned into a golden ticket for both men.

Putting The “Spaghetti On Screen”

Upon its release, The Godfather stormed to the top of the New York Times bestseller list. It occupied the number 1 spot for 21 weeks and stayed on the list for 67 weeks total. In its first two years of publication, the book sold a combined 9 million copies. The novel was now a smash hit Evans could no longer ignore.

In 1970, Paramount green-lit the Godfather and brought in Albert Ruddy to produce. Armed with the rights to a bestseller, Ruddy and Evans began the search for a director. They offered the project to the top names in Hollywood. Sergio Leone of The Good The Bad And the Ugly. Peter Bogdanovich of The Last Picture Show. Peter Yates of Bullit. Arthur Penn of Bonnie & Clyde. One by one they all turned the film down.

12 Directors in a row said “no” to The Godfather. While the book’s success was undeniable, no one would touch the film.

This may seem strange in a time when Goodfellas, Scarface, and The Sopranos are a part of our collective pop culture, but in 1970 Gangster films were bad for business. Prior to The Godfather, most crime flicks were either on-the-nose morality tales that preached “crime never pays”, or cheesy B-movies featuring offensive caricatures of Italian Americans.

Paramount themselves bear some blame. Two years prior, they had released a universally panned gangster pic called The Brotherhood. On the surface, the 1968 flop shared some similarities with The Godfather. It was a tale of family, power, and betrayal in the Italian Mafia. Only the film didn’t feature any Italians. Jewish-born actors and writers made up most of the cast and crew, with Kirk Douglas starring in the lead role.

Evans would not make the same mistake with The Godfather. His picture would look and feel Italian. He wanted the audience to “smell the spaghetti on screen.” So Paramount Vice President Peter Bart brought up the name Francis Ford Coppola.

Coppola was not a big time director like Arthur Penn or Sergio Leone, but he had two things going for him: he was cheap and Italian. The middle child of a Napolitano family, Coppola was someone who could give the film an authentic Italian feel. He was also young and inexperienced. Precisely the type of impressionable character the studio believed they could bend to their will. With that in mind, they called the young director in for an interview.

Courting Coppola

“I’ll pass.”

Bart and Evans were aghast. It appeared this 31-year-old “no-name” director would join the long list of people to turn down the movie. The Godfather simply didn’t interest Coppola. It seemed like a drudging studio production he preferred to avoid. In another world, this would have been the end of the story. But something loomed over Coppola’s decision. A dream on the verge of collapse called Zoetrope Studios.

At the age of 25 Francis Ford Coppola became a borderline folk hero for young film-makers. As a UCLA student, he turned his senior thesis into a feature film — a feat previously unheard of. Coppola found himself the de facto leader of a generation of “film brats”. A group of filmmakers who cut their teeth in the halls of Universities like USC and NYU.

Coppola’s early success caught the eye of Warner Brother. They hired him to direct their upcoming musical Finian’s Rainbow. The experience disenchanted the young Coppola. He deplored the meddling studio heads and phony back-lot production of the film.

However, the project introduced him to a shy intern by the name of George Lucas. In Lucas, Coppola found a kindred spirit. Someone who envisioned a future outside the studio system. One run by filmmakers instead of financiers. One that favored personal projects rather than bloated Hollywood pictures. One where the director was king.

While Finian’s Rainbow flopped, Coppola leveraged his work with Warner Brothers to get a $300,000 loan. He used the money to start an independent production company called Zoetrope Studios. Coppola saw the company as a place for ambitious young film-makers. A safe-haven where they could make movies outside the grip of Hollywood. As George Lucas explains.

“Zoetrope was a break away from Hollywood. It was a way of saying, ‘We don’t want to be part of the Establishment, we don’t want to make their kind of movies, we want to do something completely different.”

Coppola’s visionary rhetoric and maverick spirit inspired the staff, but it made running the business difficult. Within a few months, Warner Brothers halted funding and demanded their money back. The company now found themselves $300,000 in debt and unable to make payroll. It was at this point when Paramount offered Coppola The Godfather.

Even with Zoetrope close to bankruptcy, Coppola cringed at the offer. He saw himself as an outsider, not a studio puppet. The thought of teaming up with Evans and Paramount gave him flashbacks to Finian’s Rainbow. But saying no to the Godfather was saying no to Zoetrope. His company would not survive without the money. After weeks of back-and-forth Coppola, ceded to Paramount and agreed to direct the picture.

With Coppola on board, the Godfather had its director. But the struggle for the film was just beginning. Paramount and Coppola were about to embark on a prolonged battle. One that Robert Evans described as ”more volatile than the war the Corleone family fought on screen.”

Coppola Draws First Blood

“Marlon Brando will never appear in this picture!” Paramount head Charlie Bluhdorn turned apoplectic at the mere suggestion of Marlon Brando for the role of Vito Corleone. Hollywood had branded the once great actor as trouble, and Bluhdorn didn’t want him near the film.

Coppola didn’t flinch. The director may have been “green” by Hollywood standards, but he possessed the charisma to go toe to toe with the studio. And this was not his first time facing off with Paramount executives. So far he was undefeated.

The first tussle involved the budget and setting of the film. With the failure of The Brotherhood fresh in mind, Ruddy and Evans hesitated to dump money into The Godfather. They set a modest budget for the film and proposed a series of cost-cutting measures. The most controversial of which was a plan to ditch the novel’s 1940s setting and shoot the movie in Kansas City rather than New York.

Coppola would have none of it. He demanded a bigger budget to shoot on location. While initially sour to the source material, Coppola grew to respect Puzo’s novel. He saw the story as an operatic tale of family and succession, a parable for the promise and plight of the American Dream. In his view, Paramount was trying to squeeze an epic story into a “low budget quickie”.

The young director’s demands rankled the Paramount team. The kid could “hardly get a cartoon made in town” and he was already asking for more money. But Coppola had a youthful guile that affected even the executives at Paramount. As Lucas put it: “He could sell ice to an Eskimo”. Eventually the studio caved in and gave him the money to shoot a period piece in New York.

Casting Wars

With a budget in place, Coppola and Paramount feuded over casting. In particular, over who would play the two leads: Michael and Vito Corleone. For the role of Michael, Coppola favored Al Pacino: an up and comer from New York’s theatre scene. He thought Pacino’s raw talent and offbeat Sicilian looks could bring the character to life.

Paramount contested Coppola’s choice. The Godfather would be Pacino’s second role on screen, and they doubted he could carry the picture. The actor’s short, shaggy appearance did him no favors.

Robert Evans in particular detested Pacino. He referred to him as “the little dwarf”, “a runt”, “barely 5’5 in heels”. If he’d had his way, they would cast a towering star like Robert Redford. But again, Coppola wouldn’t take no for an answer. Al Pacino would go on to play Michael Corleone.

It was Mario Puzo who first suggested Marlon Brando for the role of Vito Corleone. Coppola immediately jumped on board. For artists of their generation, Brando was THE leading man. Iconic roles like A Streetcar Named Desire and On The Waterfront made him one of the most sought after stars of the 1950s.

But by 1970, the once-legendary actor’s stock had sunk to a low point. He was overweight, over the hill, and hadn’t made a hit in over a decade. Worse yet, he was a nightmare to work with. His diva antics on the set of Mutiny On The Bounty caused the picture to go millions of dollars over budget. While Paramount agreed to Pacino, they were firm with their stance: “anybody but Brando.”

But Coppola had a plan. One that involved tricking both Brando and Paramount. He believed he could sway the studio if they saw footage of the actor in character. So he phoned Brando and told him to shoot a screen test for the makeup department. Coppola then set up a meeting to show the studio an audition tape from an “unknown actor”. The footage on that tape is now etched in the film’s mythology.

The video begins with Brando approaching the camera in a Kimono, his long blond hair slicked back with shoe polish. Before reciting a line, he crams a wad of tissue paper in his mouth, producing the character’s iconic grumble. Over the next two minutes Marlon Brando would give a virtuoso performance, reminding everyone in the room why audiences considered him the best actor of his generation. By the end of the tape, even the grouchy Charlie Bluhdorn agreed Brando deserved the part.

With Brando on board, Coppola scored a hat trick of victories with the budget, location, and cast. But his bullheaded antics made him an unpopular presence. This silent animosity would follow him on set.

Survival On Set

Several months into the shoot, word spread that Coppola “wasn’t up for the job”. In an act of betrayal fitting of The Godfather, insiders outed editor Aram Avakian as the source of the rumor. Coppola’s long-time friend and collaborator had aspirations to direct the movie and wished to see him fired. While Avakian, not Coppola, would lose their job, the attempted coup made it clear: the director was surrounded by enemies.

This didn’t come as a surprise. From the start of production in March 1971, Coppola’s work style made him a target for members of the crew. Some accused him of being absent-minded and indecisive. Others criticized his plodding pace on set; often writing and re-writing scenes between takes.

Evans and the Paramount staff also showed their disapproval. Within a few weeks of filming they were already behind schedule, and the studio had yet to see any footage. When Coppola finally sent in dallies from the set, Evans and Ruddy had no kind words to say. They criticized everything from the grainy footage, Brando’s mumble, to the fact there was too much talking and not enough action.

In particular, they complained about the dark lighting. The lighting was, of course, an artistic choice. Coppola and Cinematographer Gordon Willis preferred a drab look on screen; with Willis’ overhead lighting painting the characters’ faces in shadow and light. Critics and Cinematographers would later praise this choice, but Paramount hated it.

After seeing the footage, executives debated what to do with Coppola. Some wanted a hired hand on set to monitor him. Some wanted to bring in a “violence coach” to help him shoot a more exciting movie. Some simply wanted him gone. There were rumors Paramount had On The Waterfront’s Elia Kazan ready in the wings to direct.

While Coppola kept his job, he went through production convinced Paramount would fire him at any moment. The only time he felt secure was after he showed the studio the Sollozzo and McClusky murder scene, one of the most iconic (and violent) parts of the movie.

As filming wrapped, Coppola and Evans fought a final battle in the editing room; one in which both men hailed themselves the victor. Coppola claims his preferred cut of The Godfather was always the 3 hour theatrical version we know and love. Evans reportedly told him the studio would never accept a three-hour movie, and warned that “if it was over two hours and fifteen minutes, he would yank the film to L.A. and cut it there.”

Evans disputes this. Until his death in 2019, he took responsibility for the 3 hour theatrical release. He insists he never pressured Coppola, and says he fought both the studio and the director for the longer cut. Whose account was more accurate? We’ll never know. What we know is Coppola left the encounter jaded and exhausted. Until its release, he thought the film he championed for two years would end up a failure.

The Success Few Saw Coming

Despite every obstacle, The Godfather triumphed from the moment it opened. During its first theatrical run, it made a record-setting 86 million dollars. Six months later, it sat alone atop the all-time Box Office list; replacing Gone With The Wind which held the top spot for over three decades.

The film also received unanimous critical acclaim both during and after its release. In 1973, The Godfather earned 11 Academy Award nominations, and went home with three wins for Best Screenplay, Best Actor, and Best Picture. It currently sits at number 2 on the American Film Institute’s list of the greatest movies of all time.

In the following decade, almost everyone involved reaped the benefits of its success. His depiction of Michael Corleone catapulted Al Pacino from “runty” unknown stage performer to Hollywood A-lister. Pacino would become one of the most sought after leading men of his generation.

The Godfather saved Marlon Brando’s career. His role as Vito Corleone not only earned an Oscar, but allowed him to momentarily cast off the title of “Hollywood Pariah”. In the 1970s he enjoyed a renaissance with lauded roles in Last Tango In Paris and Apocalypse Now.

Paramount Pictures soon reclaimed their spot at the top of the industry pecking order. Robert Evans, the once maligned producer, was now part of the Hollywood establishment. Evans and Paramount enjoyed a decade-long hot streak that saw the release of classics like Chinatown, Saturday Night Fever, and Raiders Of The Lost Ark.

And of course there’s Francis Ford Coppola: the film’s staunch champion and perhaps the hero of this story. The Godfather was the first in a four movie run many consider the best in cinema history (The Godfather Parts I & II, The Conversation, Apocalypse Now). While Zoetrope would continue to struggle, its scruffy founder is considered one of the best directors of all time.

Coda

There is a proverb that “success has many authors, failure none.” These words ring especially true for The Godfather. There are hundreds of people on and off the screen who played a role in making the film. Thousands of decisions made and unmade that created the work of art we consider a classic.

With a single wrong move, this cinematic house of cards could have come tumbling down. What if Coppola stuck to his guns and turned down the job? What if Paramount set the story in Kansas City? What if Evans got his way and Al Pacino and Marlon Brando weren’t cast? If just one of these “what ifs” were a reality, The Godfather may well have been a forgettable flop rather than the beloved movie it is today.

This makes The Godfather, and any artistic achievement, even more astounding. It reminds us that while success seems inevitable in hindsight, in the murky present it is anything but. We apply labels like “masterpiece” and “classic” looking backwards. During the act of creation, there is always uncertainty.

This may dishearten those aspiring to produce something great of their own: an unpleasant reminder of the dubious, messy work that is the creative process. But it should also make us grateful for the rare circumstances when bets pay off, art and commerce work hand in hand, and something wonderful is created.

The Godfather is as good an example of this as any. We can choose to dissect it, debate it, dole out praise to who or what is responsible. Or we can choose to be thankful the pieces aligned, and by some miraculous ruse what could have been many things, turned into something incredible.

What does a masterpiece look like?

In its humble beginnings. Before the gloss and polish? Before the Rave reviews. And Golden statues.

Perhaps something like this:

The photo above comes from Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather Notebook. This “notebook” is actually a 700+ page breakdown of Mario Puzo’s Novel.

Before shooting a single take, Coppola picked apart every page of the source material: mining it for themes, setting, and images to use in the film.

The books is not only a treat for Godfather fans, but a reminder of the raw work that kicks off the creative process. Great art feel natural, almost effortless: every piece placed impeccably in the correct order.

This is both the ruse, and magic of art. When its good it transports us, we forget what we are seeing was meticulously planned.

Coppola’s notebook shows the scrawling foundation that led to one of the greatest movies ever made. May your scribbles someday, too, shine on the silver screen.

Does your writing have “Cadaver Words”?

I hope not…

Cadaver Words mar good ideas and butcher great writing. They are as lifeless as a limp corpse. They hollow out promising prose. And erect steel walls between your work and your reader.

Use them at your own risk.

What are these dreaded words?

Cadaver words come in many shapes and sizes, but they share two qualities. They are vague and emotionless.

Think weak adjectives like: nice, good, and happy.

Nondescript verbs like: walk, stop, and think.

Dull drum nouns like: car, house, and cat.

For the writer Cadaver Words are tantalizingly convenient. You can deploy them in thousands of situations. They may be boring, but boy are they useful!

But for the audience they are a subtle form of cruelty. Remember, your precious reader is on your side. They want your words to shake them. Suck them in. Transport them to a time and place far away. Boring them is a betrayal of their trust.

How can you avoid Cadaver Words?

Specific, descriptive language is the arch enemy of the Cadaver Word.

Think of it like this:

Your audience doesn’t care that:

“Mr. Robinson’s nice car stopped on the busy street.”

But they’re intrigued when:

“Mr. Robinson’s jet black Maserati skid to a halt at the corner of 5th Avenue”.

The first example is too vague to excite. Phrases like “nice car” and “busy street” aren’t specific. They don’t immerse your reader in the scene.

However, “the jet black Maserati skidding to a halt” puts them in the middle of the action. It mentions clear images your audience recognizes. Ones their mind can use to sketch a mental picture of what’s happening.

Our job as writers is to bring ideas to life with words. To give them a pulse on page and in the audience’s mind. This act of animation requires precise active language.

So ditch those lifeless Cadaver words. Corpses belong in graveyards, not in your writing.

Pundits described the late Anthony Bourdain as many things: Television Personality, Restaurateur, Adventurer. But to me he was, first and foremost, a writer.

It was Kitchen Confidential, his exposé on the New York food scene, that shot him into the public eye and ignited his journey from line cook to beloved Television host.

Bourdain’s writing was a staple of his popular television show Parts Unknown. His dry wit, keen observations, and descriptive prose animated the locations he visited. It’s why the show stood out in the crowded field of travel television.

There is no better place to see Bourdain’s style on display than in the show’s introduction. Some of the most memorable scenes occur before the credits rolled.

I want to share writing lessons from 5 opening sequences of Parts Unknown. While filmmaking techniques enhance these sequences, there is still a lot writers and content creators can learn from the choice of words, image, and structure.

Berlin: Lead With A Contradiction

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUZ5jiGtihk

“25 years later, after the wall fell, Berlin remains complicated and unfinished. Complicated by history and counter-history. The urban fabric resists all attempts to reorder it. Berlin fascinates. And people continue to be drawn to its darkness and its light.”

Anthony Bourdain frequently began episodes by pointing out contradictions. Opposing economic, historical, and cultural forces in the countries he visited.

Perhaps because he was a bit of a contradiction himself. A man who could be both foul mouthed and hardheaded, as well as soulful and kind.

Perhaps because he was a seasoned traveler and knew the world was full of contradictions. Good and bad qualities contained in a single border.

Or perhaps because he understood inconsistencies fascinate us.

Our brain craves order. We pine for patterns that make the world clean and predictable. When two seemingly opposing forces collide, we work overtime to reconcile the information.

This makes contradictions a compelling device to lead with. They create tension. We want to see how these conflicting ideas can co-exist, so we keep consuming.

The Congo: Jump Right To The Action

After 9 days of threats of imprisonment. Confiscation of footage. And what was the most difficult, yet amazing trip of my life, the last thing that stands between us and our flight home, is the reason we came. The Congo River itself. You learn quickly that in Congo things change at a moment’s notice. Welcome to the Jungle.

While Parts Unknown was a documentary style show it contained a story embedded in each episode. The story could be the incomplete or unraveling history of a nation. Or it could be the story of how Bourdain and his crewed filmed a particular episode.

The script is from Parts Unknown: Congo. Unfortunately, I could not find a (legal) way to show you the introduction, so the quote above and the description below will have to do.

We begin as an amazed and exhausted Anthony Bourdain chronicles his voyage in the Congo. He peppers his account with lurid details: confiscated footage and threats of imprisonment. It caps off with a final obstacle between the crew and their safety: The Congo River.

This scene would be the climax of a linear narrative. Yet Bourdain begins the episode with it. We’re thrust in the action at the most tense moment. And it works!

There is no golden rule that a story must unfold chronology. In fact, some of the best works of literature and cinema grip their audience by beginning in the middle of the action. Think Slaughterhouse-Five, Citizen Kane, and Pulp Fiction.

Non-linear story telling entices because it creates an open loop in the audience’s head. They’re shown a scene of the story (often an exciting one), but don’t receive closure. They must now travel back in time with you to discover the missing pieces of the story and move forward to get a final resolution.

Greek Islands: Tease The Imagination

https://youtu.be/CGDK-ao7Zxw?t=59

I was hesitant to include this video from the Greek Islands. It’s the only introduction on the list that doesn’t feature narration. But the clip tantalizes me. After seeing it, I feel compelled to watch on.

Something about its crawling tempo and sparse images. It says a lot, while saying nothing at all. It demonstrates that what grabs someone’s attention is not necessarily what you include, but what you omit.

The human mind is more expansive than a high tech camera lens. When a creator cuts out details, the audience uses their imagination to fill in the gap. This is something Bourdain understood: include just enough details to tease your audience.

This works wonders for a travel show. The viewer has likely never been to the location on the screen. They probably know little about it. But the introduction wets their appetite. It gets them wondering about the exotic land. It shows just enough to get their attention, but leaves them wanting more.

Montana: Evoke The Senses

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ddODr0gWUCU

“Some people must live in great spaces. Where the sky goes on forever. Where everyone must bend to the land. Where to hunt, to fish, to sleep under that big sky aren’t activities but a way of life.”

Bourdain was both a writer and film buff. He’s spoken openly about demanding impeccable standards from his directors. He wanted his show to feel cinematic.

Cinema itself has a distinct advantage over other types of art. It’s multidisciplinary. Photography, music, writing, and editing all working as one.

Take the clip above about Montana. It pairs Bourdain’s narration with stunning visuals and a stirring score. Together they transport the audience. We feel as if we’ve woken up in an alien land.

As writers, we are not so lucky. All we have is ink, pen, and page. However, we can still simulate the senses with the tools at our disposal.

Bourdain’s words alone have a cinematic quality. The imagery of “skies that go on forever” and “bending to the land” paint a picture of the boundless Montana landscape. It entrances us. It makes us want to go where he does.

Bourdain’s words alone have a cinematic quality. The imagery of “skies that go on forever” and “bending to the land” paint a picture of the boundless Montana landscape. It entrances us. It makes us want to go where he does.

Hong Kong: Pay Homage To What You Love

https://youtu.be/CrYPKV6_dYk?t=6

“Chapter 1: to fall in love with Asia is one thing. To fall in love in Asia is another. Both have happened to me. The star fairy powered at night. The lights of Hong Kong behind me. It’s a gift, the dream, and a curse. The best thing, the happiest thing, yet also the loneliest thing in the world.”

Parts Unknown was a love letter. A love letter to food, to culture, to people. It was also a love letter to the eclectic taste of its host. The way art, film, and literature he loved shaped the places he visited.

As Bourdain himself says:

“All of us, when we travel, look at the places we go, the things we see through different eyes. And how we see them is shaped by our previous lives: The books we’ve read, the films we’ve seen, the baggage we carry”

Bourdain wore his influences on his sleeve. He fearlessly shared the baggage and art that shaped his life with the audience. This often took the form of homages to his personal heroes. The Hong Kong episode quoted above was an homage to Filmmaker Wong Kar-Wai, one of Bourdain’s favorite directors.

This piece was my homage to Anthony Bourdain. A small tribute to the unassailably cool host of (in my opinion) the best travel show of all time. And someone who wasn’t recognized enough for his writing.

This is a long winded way of saying: lead and write about what you love. Share it. Elaborate on it. Celebrate it with other fans. Champion it to the unfamiliar.

Let what’s singular about your journey guide what you create.

You’ve done it!

Your headline snatched your prospect’s attention. Your subhead was sooo good they couldn’t help but click.

Congratulations! The reward for your hard work…

You now have 8 to 12 seconds to hold their interest…

Or else they’re going to ditch your precious post and never return.

Look, I’m not trying to scare you. This is simply the reality of today’s hyper-competitive attention economy. Reader’s are a fickle bunch. If you bore them, you lose them.

You need to get them interested quickly if you want them to continue reading. Making a good first impression is more important than ever.

How do you do this?

By writing an introduction that lassoes them in!

Your introduction is arguably the most important part of your blog. It’s the sales pitch for your post. It’s pitching your audience on what’s to come. It should offer them a compelling reason to continue reading.

While there are millions of different blog intros, most successful ones fall into 5 categories.

In this article I want to share these 5 categories, show you popular samples from each type, and teach you how you can use them to hook in your readers.

Check them out below:

Intro 1: Shock Intro

Holy shit! New York. The Big Apple. The sprawling cultural mecca of the world. “Is completely dead”!

Consider me intrigued.

The example above is taken from James Altucher’s blog “Why NYC Is Dead Forever”. This post generated a lot of traffic and controversy. Legendary Comedian Jerry Seinfeld even penned an Opt Ed in the New York Times criticizing the article.

I’m not here to take sides. Agree or disagree, the intro grabs your attention. Once you start reading it’s hard to stop.

“Why NYC Is Dead Forever” is an example of what I call a “Shock Intro”.

The Shock Intro begins by stating an extreme opinion, controversial point of view, or challenge to the audience. These bold statements are meant to provoke your reader. They create tension that can only be resolved by finishing the article.

Not all readers will agree with your conclusion. Some will find it repugnant (ie Jerry Seinfeld). But most will be intrigued. They’ll want to see how you defend (or fail to defend) your infernally hot take.

Word of warning! Use this intro with care. Shock Intros deal in extremes and have the potential to piss off parts of your audience. If you start with a strong opinion, have the facts to back it up.

Also make sure what you share has value to the audience. Avoid shock for shock sakes. No one likes a troll.

Intro 2: Misconception Intro

I took the excerpt above from Kevin Kelly’s blog post 1000 True Fans. The opening paragraph is a classic “Misconception Intro”.

The Misconception Intro is one of the most popular ways to start a blog. Think of it as a gentler version of the Shock Intro. While the Shock Intro calls for an all out assault on the reader’s beliefs, the Misconception Intro is a nudge in the right direction.

The Misconception Intro questions your audience’s beliefs, but in a friendly way. It often starts by stating a common assumption about a subject, and then teases or reveals a new way of looking at it.

The intro works best when the new information makes the reader’s life easier. This is why Kelly’s 1,000 True Fans works so well.

It replaces the audience’s onerous assumption that they need a million fans to be a successful artist or entrepreneur, and replaces it with the manageable fact that they only need 1,000 true fans to make a living.

Intro 3: Benefit Intro

I copied this introduction from James Clear’s (author of Atomic Habits) article about the creative process. It’s the most direct introduction we’ll discuss. It leads with the main idea of the article (the creative process) and then enumerates the benefits of learning about this idea.

When a reader opens up your blog post they’re asking a single question in the back of their head:

“How does this information benefit me”

This sounds selfish. But we can’t help it! People (you and I included) read content because we believe it will benefit us in some way: whether that’s helping us solve a pressing problem or simply entertaining us on our lunch break.

The “Benefit Intro” addresses the audience’s self interest head on. It shares the rewards they will receive at the top of the article.

This is even more effective when paired with reassurance. Some audience members assume that certain advice only works for a select “type” or “group” of people they don’t belong to. It’s useful to assure them that they too can enjoy the benefits outlined in your intro.

The introduction up top achieves both these ends. In the first paragraph James Clear spells out the benefits of the creative process. He then uses the second paragraph to assure the reader that they can reap the benefits he’s described.

Intro 4: Analogy Intro

Before reading Steve QJ’s piece I’d never thought of writer’s block like signing a birthday card. Yet, his description of staring dumbly at a birthday card evokes the horrors of looking at a blank page and having no idea what to write.

***Side note: if you don’t know who Steve QJ is do yourself a favor and check him out. He’s one of the best writers on Medium!

Steve is a master of the “Analogy Intro”. An Analogy Intro compares two seemingly different things. This comparison should highlight the main idea of your writing, or offer a new way to look at the subject.

Analogies often use recognizable images, familiar scenarios, or imagined experiences to make their point. They can take the form of statements like:

A great ____ is like _____________.

Have you ever done __________. If you have, you know the pains of ______.

Imagine a world in which _______.

While analogies share similar forms, they offer limitless space for creativity. Use them to envision your topic in a unique way, and share it with your audience. When done well it’s an almost act of alchemy: combining elements that shouldn’t mix into a coherent compound.

Intro 5: Question Intro

Mark Manson’s “Fuck Yes Or No”, one of the most popular dating advice articles, opens with the question above.

On its face the question is simple. And if we were reasonable and level-headed about our love life (spoiler alert: we’re not) we’d empathetically answer “I’d never date someone like that”. But if you’re like most people, the question dredges up memories of unhealthy relationships.

“Fuck Yes Or No” is one of many blog posts which starts with a question. Manson’s question about unrequited love is rhetorical. He uses it as a device to get his audience thinking about the topic, and to tease his idea of Fuck Yes and Fuck No.

This is just one way to use a question. Some others are:

Question As A Benefit: Disguise a benefit as a question (see benefit intro). For example: Do you want to learn a blogging strategy that doubles your readership?

The answer to this question is (obviously) YES. But the answer is not the point. You’re using the question to introduce a benefit your audience will receive from reading.

Intrigue: Intrigue questions spark the reader’s curiosity. Usually the question itself rivets your prospect and makes them read on to find the answer. An example would be: Do blog writers really have higher IQs than Rocket Scientists?

Conclusion

Blog introductions are important, but they don’t need to be difficult!

The 5 intros above are easy and adaptable. They work for any niche, and on all types of audiences. Use them in your next piece to hook your readers!

If you want to understand how to get someone’s attention online, look down at your dog.

Anyone who’s ever owned a dog knows how fleeting their focus is. One moment they’re entranced by their favorite chew toy. Then BOOM! A tantalizing odor, scurrying squirrel, or large stick steals their attention.

But every dog owner has an ace in the deck. A “magic word” that will make their shifty pet drop everything they’re doing and pay attention.

That magic word?

Treat

Almost all of the English language is gibberish to your sweet pooch, but the word “treat” holds a special place in their heart. They can’t help it. It’s more a reflex, than a choice. They hear it and their concentration zeroes in with a zen-like focus.

How Does This Apply To Content Creators?

In the internet age, a potential audience member’s brain operates in much the same way as their canine counterpart.

Their attention is scattered. Yanked in a 360 degree tug war between Youtube clips, cat memes, and the bevy of other distractions offered on the web.

Luring them over to your content may feel like a formidable feat, but you too have an ace in the deck; a “treat” you dangle in front of their nose.

This treat is the reward your prospect receives from reading or viewing your content. It comes in many forms:

Something that excites their curiosity.

An answer to their most vexing problem.

A roadmap to their wildest dreams.

An affirmation of their deepest beliefs.

These “treats” will be different in different niches, but every audience has them. Your job as a content creator is to find them and put them to use.

So make your audience an offer they can’t refuse. Get out your dog whistle and yell TREAT. And watch as prospects, like the dog in the metaphor, gladly stroll over and sit by your side.

This is David Goggins. He is a former Navy SEAL and Army Ranger. He has held the Guinness record for most pull ups in 24 hours. In his spare time he runs Ultra Marathons.

This is Brené Brown. She has a PHD in social work. She’s researched shame and vulnerability the past two decades, and has written 6 best selling books on the subject.

Judging by their bios the two couldn’t be more different, yet you can find both their work in the self help section of your bookstore. While the two authors fit in the same genre, they view the idea of “self improvement” in radically different ways.

For David Goggins “self improvement” means self discipline. It requires shining up your armor and going to war with your weaknesses

For Brené Brown “self improvement” means self acceptance. It requires relinquishing your armor, and loving yourself in spite of your frailty.

Brown and Goggins are not alone. They are prominent examples of two fragments of the self help industry I call “self discipline” and “self acceptance.”

Both forms of self help have massive audiences, but is one better than the other? If someone wants to make a positive change in their life, must they pick a side? Or is there something we can take away from both ideas?

To answer these questions, let’s take a deeper look at the two philosophies and their spokespeople.

*** Note: For the sake of brevity I have simplified the ideas of the two authors. Click on the links to learn more about David Goggins and Brené Brown.

David Goggins & Self Discipline

David Goggins is a bonafide badass with a resume to prove it. He is a decorated Navy SEAL, Army Ranger, and endurance athlete. But David Goggins was not always the superhuman he is today. In his bestselling memoir Can’t Hurt Me he describes his humble beginnings.

Goggins grew up in a broken home with an abusive father. He later moved to a predominantly white town where his classmates bullied him because of his race. Prior to trying out for the SEAL’s he was 100 pounds overweight and stuck in a dead end job fumigating cockroaches.

Things didn’t get easier during his military career. He failed the SEAL training and selection process twice, and had to endure the notorious Hell Week three times. He passed on his third attempt with a broken knee.

While these feats are extraordinary, David Goggins believes anyone is capable of a similar transformation if they put in the grueling work. He states:

“When your mind is telling you you’re done, you’re really only 40 percent done.”

David Goggins is one of the leading personalities in what I call the self discipline wing of the self help world. Other figures in this group include fellow Navy SEAL Jocko Willink, MMA commentator Joe Rogan, and controversial author Jordan Peterson.

For the self disciplinarian the good life is a strenuous one. They believe fulfillment comes from pushing yourself to the extreme. Adherents are encouraged to develop discipline by seeking out difficult tasks, and tackling them with enthusiasm.

You are in a ceaseless battle against your shortcomings. In this battle there is no room for weakness, and excuses are not tolerated. Feeling tired, sad, or unmotivated? Doesn’t matter! You have to put in the work anyways.

Self Acceptance: Brené Brown

Like Goggins, Brené Brown has an impressive list of accomplishments. Her popular 2010 TED Talk: The Power Of Vulnerability currently has over 50 million views. She’s written 6 books which have sold well over a million copies. In 2019, she became one of the first motivational speakers to get a Netflix Special.

While some dub Brown “the queen of vulnerability”, she does not describe herself that way. In fact, she would not describe herself as vulnerable at all. The initial goal of her research was to “beat back shame and vulnerability with a measuring stick.”

This approach backfired. Brown talks openly about using alcohol and perfectionism as shields against inner shame. In her TED talk she revealed she had a nervous breakdown and sought out therapy when reaching the conclusion of her research.

What was this conclusion?

Unhappy people have an unassailable sense of shame. They believe there is something fundamentally wrong with them, and they are unworthy of love and approval. On the other hand, happy people believe they are worthy of love. They know they are not perfect, but still have compassion for themselves.

Brown has become one of the many faces on the nurturing side of the self help sphere which I call self-acceptance. Other figures include meditation teacher Tara Branch, author Jen Sincero, and Yale Psychologist Laurie Santos.

In this school of thought adherents are taught to be kind to themselves. To forgive themselves for past and present failures. To accept their shortcomings and move on anyway. It preaches that we don’t need to earn acceptance through external validation and accomplishments. We are enough as we are.

Both the self discipline and self acceptance philosophies have enthusiasts around the world. What specifically do people like about these ideas? We’ll start with self discipline.

Why Join Team Goggins?

Difficult Tasks Require Discipline: Most things worth achieving require discipline. Think of common goals like dieting, weight loss, financial planning, and mastering a new skill. All of these involve a trade off of hard (and often unpleasant) work to achieve some desirable goal in the future. Left to our own devices, most of us will opt for the greasy burger over the kale salad. We have to exert some form of will power to make the better choice.

This is doubly true if you have ambitious goals like becoming a successful entrepreneur, world class musician, or professional athlete. Effort alone will not suffice. Becoming extraordinary requires putting in exhaustive hours. This level of work is not possible without training yourself to withstand hardship.

Zero Tolerance Policy For Excuses: Our mind has a savant-like ability to come up with reasons not to do things we don’t want to do. Some of these may be valid, but most are clever forms of avoidance. The self discipline school does not care for these excuses.

Paradoxically this hard ass attitude can make it easier to do the work. It removes choice from the equation. Your mind no longer exerts energy flip flopping between whether or not to do something. There is no decision to make, only work to be done.

Bias Towards Action: For the disciplinarian action is the agent of self improvement. Becoming a better version of yourself requires taking bold actions day after day. The outlook is light on contemplation, but that can be a good thing for some.

Oftentimes we use research and fact finding to delay action. Self Help itself can even be a form of evasion. Some of the more cerebral folks may even believe they can think their way to a better life. If you fall into one of these categories, you can benefit from advice that advocates getting off your ass and entering the arena.

Why Join Team Brown?

More Compassionate Approach

Brené Brown believes people go through their lives burdened by shame. They feel there is some inalterable part of themselves which is rotten. I imagine many people who seek out self help advice have this belief.

These wounded souls may be turned off by the self discipline camp. The hard nosed rhetoric of the disciplinarian may only aggravate their shame, heighten their unworthiness, and make them less likely to get help.

Brown and her cohorts offer a more sympathetic solution. One that acknowledges and empathizes with people’s inner struggle. This gentle approach may be more inviting to people suffering from shame and contempt.

Gets To The Root Of The Problem

Much of our discontentment has little to do with external circumstances. There are people who have it all on the surface: lucrative career, nice car, beautiful family; but are miserable inside.

Brown recognizes the psychological roots of our dissatisfaction. If you live with the underlying assumption that “you are not enough”, no level of achievement will make you feel whole. No fancy job title, “perfect” body, or amount of money in the bank will quiet the nagging voice in your head.

The self acceptance field addresses this core belief, rather than focusing on its symptoms. It questions the assumption there is something wrong with us in the first place. Perhaps we are alright after all, and there is nothing to fix.

Allows Us To Accept What We Cannot Change

Who we are is a result of both nature and nurture: our biological makeup and unique upbringing. What do these two forces have in common? Both are outside your control. This means there are many parts of ourselves which we did not create and cannot govern.

There are certainly things we like about ourselves: perhaps we have a square jaw and a killer golf swing. But there are also things we despise. And many of these less favorable parts of our personality cannot be willed away by discipline. Whether we like them or not they are here to stay.

Self acceptance allows us to come to terms with the parts of ourselves we cannot change. Denying, outwitting, or outworking these parts of ourselves doesn’t make them go away. It shoves them into the dark corners of our psyche where they grow stronger in the shadows. Self acceptance brings them out of the shadows, and into the light where we can begin to deal with them.

Why We Need Both Types Of Self Improvement

While self discipline and self acceptance are certainly different, they are not necessarily at odds with one another. When you take the best elements from both philosophies you can create a more integrative and realistic view of self help.

Brené Brown is correct that meaningful change starts with self acceptance. We are cast in the world into circumstances we can’t control. We can’t control where we were born. Who are parents are. What we look like. What we’re good and bad at. These intractable forces shape us, carve out our personality, and create unique sources of insecurity and shame.

The journey to self improvement begins by accepting these imperfections, but not being defined by them. We’re all imperfect people, in a deeply imperfect world, and many of us carry burdens we didn’t choose. Coming to terms with these facts lessens their power over us. It reminds us, blemishes and all, we are worthy of love and happiness.

But acceptance only gets you so far. If you want to make a meaningful change in your life (even if that change is being more accepting of yourself) you’ll need to put in a lot of work.

And make no mistake, the work will not always be fun. In fact, much of it will be demanding. And most days you will not want to do it. This is where David Goggins and the disciplinarians enter the fray.

The work ahead of you requires strength and discipline. To cultivate these qualities you need a David Goggins type figure yelling over your shoulder. A figure who knows what you’re capable of and demands a lot from you. A figure who will not accept excuses and half assed attempts. A figure who exhibits the type of tough love you need to be the best version of yourself.

In the end self-acceptance and self-discipline may come together in the form of self love. This messy type of love is both caring and demanding: tough and tender. It embraces our misgivings, but wants us to push forward and be our best in spite of them. This knotty form of self love might be exactly the thing that brings together the David Goggins and Brené Browns of the world.

Jerry Seinfeld is one of the most prolific comedy writers of all time.

While he is most known for his eponymous sitcom, Seinfeld has produced multiple standup specials, hosts the popular Netflix series Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee, and recently published a book of his work.

This tremendous output isn’t an accident. Jerry has spent decades crafting a systematic approach to writing. In an interview on the popular Podcast the Tim Ferriss Show, Seinfeld shared the nuts and bolts of his writing practice. Here are the 7 best pieces of writing wisdom from Jerry Seinfeld.

Understand You Are Attempting “The Most Difficult Thing In The World”

“People tell you to write like you can do it, like you’re supposed to be able to do it. Nobody can do it. It’s impossible. The greatest people in the world can’t do it. So if you’re going to do it, you should first be told: “What you are attempting to do is incredibly difficult. One of the most difficult things there is”

Writing is REALLY FREAKING hard. This is the crux of Seinfeld’s philosophy. It informs everything else. Each one of his strategy’s addresses this fundamental truth.

It’s a fact that anyone who has even scribbled a “thank you note’’ can attest to. Yet we forget. We curse our keyboards, beat ourselves up, and appear flustered when our first draft doesn’t read like War And Peace.

Clichés like: “speak your truth” and “write what you know” only compound this frustration. They make writing sound so simple, like something we come out of the womb knowing how to do.

This isn’t the case. In order to write effectively we must arm ourselves with the proper tools for the trying task ahead.

The Writer’s Brain Is A Dog That Needs To Be Trained:

You’ve got to treat your brain like a dog you just got. The mind is infinite in wisdom. The brain is a stupid, little dog that is easily trained.

Your mind is a supercomputer. Your brain is a schnauzer, and should be treated as such. This canine part of your cranium would rather chase its tail than do a minute of hard work. It is up to you to teach it to sit down and do the near “impossible” task of writing.

What does this training look like? Seinfeld has a four step process for his daily writing routine. He breaks it down like this:

1. Schedule A Writing Session. Decide on a specific time and place where you will write.
2. Set A Goal: Clarify exactly what you will work on during your session.
3. Give Yourself A Time Limit: Set a timer for the amount of time you will write for. When the timer goes off, stop writing.
4. Reward yourself: Like the dumb dog in the metaphor you also deserve a treat. When you finish your writing session treat yourself to a bubble bath, ice cream sundae, or your vice of choice.

Set Constraints On Your Writing Practice:

“Don’t just sit down with an open-ended, “I’m going to work on this problem.” That’s a ridiculous torture to put on a human being’s head.”

Imagine you’ve booked an appointment with a personal trainer. You arrive at your first session and ask the trainer how long the workout will be. To your surprise the trainer shrugs, and says “I don’t know yet”. Now imagine this is not just one day of your workout regiment, but every day. How long would you continue to work out?

Seinfeld believes most writing practices look like this training routine. Unfocused. Unclear. Doomed to fail.

The remedy: constraints.

Seinfeld recommends you constrain your writing by having both a goal and time limit for each session (steps 2 & 3 of his daily writing habit).

You may think constraints hamper creativity, but it’s the opposite. Constraints make room for creativity. Remember, your brain is an excitable puppy. It needs a direction to expend its energy. Constraints narrow your brain’s focus and gives your work a path to follow.

Treat Writing & Editing As Separate Activities

“I have two phases. There is the free-play creative phase. Then there is the polish and construction phase”

Seinfeld’s writing process begins with an idea and a yellow legal pad. It culminates in an incisive standup routine on stage. It gets from pen to stage in two phases:

The free-play creative phase: This phase is loose and playful. You use it to come up with ideas, and expand on ideas you already have.

In this phase the writing is crude. You’re concerned with putting your thoughts on page, not polishing them for an audience. Grammar, punctuation, misspellings should not worry you. Your only goal is to get in a state of flow and write a lot.

The polish-construction phase: The purpose of this phase is to pare down your writing. You want to turn the raw ideas of the previous phase into something coherent. This requires perfecting your word choice. Cutting out unneeded passages. And making sure your work flows and is presentable to an audience.

More broadly, we can think of these phases as writing and editing. They are two distinct parts of the process. You should not combine them into one activity. Trying to edit while you write (and vice versa) will disrupt both the flow of the writing process, and the precision of the editing process. Focus on one or the other during each writing session.

Successful Writing Means Being Both A Drill Sergeant And A Coddling Nanny

The key to writing, to being a good writer, is to treat yourself like a baby, extremely nurturing and loving, and then switch over to Lou Gossett in Officer and a Gentleman and just be a harsh prick

There are two central figures in Jerry Seinfeld’s writing practice: the coddling nanny and the hard ass drill sergeant.

The coddling nanny is an angelic figure. She dotes on you. She knows that writing is difficult and is proud of you just for showing up. She is all too happy to bring you cookies and milk for your effort.

The drill sergeant, on the other hand, is not so kind. He demands the best and cares little about your effort or feelings. He is a ruthless servant of the work. It is his general, and he serves with diabolical duty. He will gleefully tear your precious writing to shreds if it does not serve the work.

Seinfeld claims both figures are necessary for great writing, but you must strike a balance between the two.

Too much of the nanny and you turn complacent. The quality of your work drops because you’re gushing with pride over anything you write.

Too much of the drill sergeant and you run scared. His high standards and harsh tone make even attempting to write a daunting and miserable task.

Always Wait A Day Before Sharing Your Work

Here’s a little — a fine point of writing technique that I’ll pass along to you writers out there. Never talk to anyone about what you wrote that day, that day. You have to wait 24 hours to ever say anything to anyone about what you did

There is an unwritten rule for expecting parents: never share your baby’s name before it’s born. Why? Because sharing the name with someone will solicit a reaction. And anything less than a stellar response will make you doubt your choice.

Like the name of your precious child, your writing must be protected in utero. If you share it and someone has mixed feelings, it spoils the difficult work you put in. You may feel like the time you spent was a waste, and become less motivated to work hard in the future. Why bother pouring hours into something if it sucks?

Seinfeld recommends waiting at least 24 hours before sharing something you’ve written. He believes early feedback jeopardizes that “wonderful, happy feeling you get from doing a difficult thing”. For Jerry, If you had the guts to sit down and write you deserve at least a day to savor it.

Accept Mediocrity And Keep Going

“Learn to accept your mediocrity. No one’s really that great. You know who’s great? The people that just put tremendous amounts of hours into it. It’s a game of tonnage.”

Let’s circle back to the crux of Jerry’s philosophy: Writing is REALLY FREAKING hard. You can think of his advice as a series of stratagems to get you to do this difficult work.

The quixotic few up to the task will spend a lot of time wallowing in mediocrity: devoting years to the craft and still not producing something they are satisfied with. This is infuriating, but necessary.

The people who can’t accept their mediocrity flame out. They want a quick fix for a long and tiresome journey. When this quick fix never comes, they quit.

As Jerry says: writing is a game of “tonnage”. To get good you have to put in a lot of work. Not all of it will be up to your exacting standards, but you still need to show up everyday. The sooner you come to terms with this, the easier it will be to consistently get your ass in a chair and write.