What Liz Lemon Has Taught Me About Writing

There are a few pieces of writing advice I'm sure we've all heard over and over.  You know what I'm talking about: show, don't tell.  Cut the adverbs.  Don't infodump.  No prologues.  Write on a computer that's disconnected from the internet.  Don't ever, ever query a "fiction novel."

But this isn't the only useful advice out there.  If you're paying attention, there are meaningful lessons to be learned just about everywhere you look...

...and I have been watching a lot of 30 Rock lately.  So, without further ado, I present to you:


 1. Feelings Are Not a Dealbreaker
"If I can pass on any lesson that will change your life it is for you to understand that your feelings will almost always take the path of least resistance. If we are going to accomplish anything in life we cannot let our feelings have a vote."
- Kristen Lamb

When it comes to your writing time, whether or not you "feel" like writing is NOT a dealbreaker.  Your feelings are irrelevant to the work you must do.

Your job is to show up.  Show up when it's raining and your coffeemaker's been broken for days and you can barely form a sentence.  Show up when your head is pounding from staring at a screen for 8 hours and you can't imagine putting in another second at a computer.  Show up whether you've gotten one hour of sleep, or eight.  Show up.  No complaints.  No excuses. 

Your feelings - good or bad - don't get a vote.

Don't get me wrong - there are dealbreakers:

...but not when it comes to doing the work.  Show up.

2. Teach Your Brain to Want to Go to There
"My prescription for writer’s block is to face the fact that there is no such thing. It’s an invented condition... Writing well is difficult, but one can always write something.  And then, with a lot of work, make it better.  It’s a question of having enough will and ambition, not of hoping to evade this mysterious hysteria people are always talking about."
- Thomas Mallon
So often I've heard writers say that if you write every day, at the same time, your brain will learn that that's when it's time to work.  There is no muse.  The big secret is, you sit down with the intention of writing, and you write.

In other words, you train your brain to want to go to there.

I've stopped fearing writer's block, because I know that if I keep my date with myself, something will get written.  The story will take steps forward - tentative wobbly baby giraffe steps, maybe, but steps.  Once I'm there, once I've set my mind to writing, the rest just kind of... falls into place.

It's such a relief to have the battle nearly won the moment I sit down in my chair.  I go to there, and there is where things get done.

3. Sometimes You Have to Climb Into the Crevasse
"There are so many different kinds of writing and so many ways to work that the only rule is this: do what works."
- Sophy Burnham

I've mentioned before that I'm a pantser.  And the reason I'm a pantser is because I used to be an outliner, and it failed miserably.  I discovered that I'm one of those people who loses all interest in writing a story once it's outlined, which has made me very, very paranoid about doing anything even remotely resembling outlining.

But sometimes, our resistance to something works against us.  Sometimes you have to crawl into the crevasse in order to find your way out.  Sometimes you have to let Tracy Jordan make a pornographic film based on your life do things that fall outside your comfort zone.

So I still don't outline, but I do spend some time plotting out each scene before I write it.  Even that feels uncomfortable for me, but I can't deny that it works - it keeps the story moving forward and keeps my eyes focused on what's ahead.

You have to do what works.  And this means that sometimes, you have to crawl into the cravasse.

4. We Are the Problem Solvers
"A novel is like a cathederal and you really can’t carry in your imagination the form a cathedral is to take."
- William Trevor

Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I'm not expected to have everything figured out before I start writing.  I kept beating myself up every time a plot twist or piece of backstory revealed itself - the little voice in the back of my head would pipe up, wondering what was wrong with me, why it took me so long to realize things that were blindingly obvious (blindingly obvious, of course, as soon as I unearthed them).  There was much gnashing of teeth, grumpy notetaking, time wasted taking stock of my own inadequacies.

Except when it comes to those seemingly-belated moments of insight... well, it turns out, that's just the way of it.  In fact, that's the point.  The not-knowing, and the writing toward that sudden jolt of understanding: that's what makes writing fun.  My job is to sit down and to be curious.  It is to discover and dust off and hold up to the light and examine. 

We're not supposed to go in knowing every answer.  We can't.  And we probably shouldn't.

Because we're the problem solvers.  And that's what makes it so much fun.

5. Shut it Down
“I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won’t have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it."
- Anne Lamott

You can't write if you're worried about the following:

  • Whether your story is too trendy
  • Whether your story is not trendy enough
  • What your mom/kindergarden teacher/best friend/pastor/priest/rabbi will think of your book
  • Whether you have set aside "enough" time for writing today and should even bother
  • What people are talking about on Twitter right now
  • What people were talking about on Twitter the last time you checked (uh, six minutes ago)
  • The state of your kitchen/living room/laundry pile
  • How much your first sentence sucks
  • How much the last scene you wrote sucks
  • How much everything you've written in the space between your first sentence and the last scene you wrote sucks...



Do not lend your precious headspace to your crazy inner troll!


Yes, there are times when it's appropriate to ask questions such as, "Is this story likely to sell?" or,  "Am I prioritizing my writing in a way that works for me?" or, "Is there a way I can make my opening stronger?"  Those questions are valid, and they should be considered in a calm, reasonable manner.

They should NOT be asked in a needling voice that creeps into your ear like a worm when you're in the middle of drafting page 173.  That is self-sabotage.  It is the enemy of creative thinking.  Don't fall for it.

S.  That.  D. 
Shut it down.

Got it?

What is the best writing advice you've ever gotten?*

*(30 Rock-themed or otherwise.  But bonus points for 30 Rock references!)


the things we feed ourselves

I've always hated packing a lunch.  It's easier to buy, more convenient, and most places make better food than I could make for myself, anyway.  But lately - due to a combination of health and financial reasons - I've started bringing my lunch to work every day.

It's turned into a small ritual for me.  Each night I wash and dry all my little lunch containers, and refill them with things I like to eat.  And as much as I thought I would hate it... y'know, it's actually nice to know where my food comes from.  I can pack things that I know are healthy and that I will enjoy.  And I know it sounds silly, but something about this teeny-tiniest of transformations has started to reverberate through the rest of my day.

Rather than go out and choose from a list of overpriced and relatively unhealthy things to eat each day, I'm being mindful about the food I'm putting into my body.  I'm pausing my evening for just long enough to really think about it.  I'm choosing what is good for me, and cutting out what isn't.  And I keep thinking this very obvious thought.  Nothing earthshattering, but it keeps hitting me:

The things that feed us are the things we feed ourselves.

It sounds simple, but I suppose that so much of the time I'm walking around just letting things happen to me.  I have to eat, so I'll just go out and pick up whatever seems least gross.  I have to work, so I'll show up and put my head down and count the minutes until I can get back to my "real" life. 

I've been content to feed myself whatever's easiest, whatever's readily available.  But not caring is a choice.  Failing to pay attention is a choice.  I look around at the life I'm building for myself and I wonder how much of it is standing on foundations I just happened to land on, and never thought to change.
In some ways, of course, I'm always culling and planting, culling and planting.  I go through cycles where I cut way back, and then swing around with open arms and gather everything in.  But in the past I've usually thought about this in terms of my relationships with people - who are my priorities? - and my living space - what can I get rid of, and what can I bring in?

These days it seems to be more about myself and my time.  What behaviors of mine are serving me?  What things do I need to do so that I can do the things that I want to do?  What am I feeding myself, literally and figuratively?  And what have I been content to just sit back and consume because it's there?

I'm responsible for feeding myself.  I'm responsible for what goes into my brain and my body.  My life is made up of the things to which I direct my attention.

In some ways, this means that my days have gotten smaller.  I read.  I write.  I run.  I'm perusing fewer blogs, watching less television.  I'm talking more to people who make me smile.  Spending more time alone.  I'm thinking carefully about where I put my time and energy, and turning away from things that aren't feeding me.

Every night I pack a lunch, and every day I eat it.  And so far, so good.



In the same way that I love lists and am slightly crazy about setting goals, I'm also a pretty big fan of New Year's resolutions.  A built-in time of the year for self-reflection, for taking a step back and assessing what's working and what isn't?  Yes please and thank you!  (Really, you should know by now that I live for this stuff.)

But this year, in the midst of all this reflection and goal-setting, I'm still trying to remember who I am: someone who often has unrealistic expectations for herself.  Someone who frequently sets herself up for failure by requiring impossibilities.  Someone who makes grand pronouncements and ends up feeling bad/disappointed/ashamed when she can't follow through.  (Also: someone who talks about herself in the third person, apparently.) 

In any case, I've been thinking a lot about how there's a balance involved, between pushing myself to be better and pushing myself to exhaustion.  With that in mind, I'm trying something new this year.

I'm not telling my resolutions.

There are three major things I want to do this year, all of them entirely achievable.  I'm going to work hard to usher them to completion, and believe me, if that happens - you'll know.  By the dancing and drunkenness, if nothing else, heh.

But I don't want to say my resolutions out loud.  Words have permanence, they should mean something, and if I resolve to do a thing - if it's said, if it's written - then I will inevitably have GUILT if I can't make it happen.  And y'know, I'm just so tired of motivating myself with guilt.  It's exhausting and it turns things I enjoy into obligations.  I want to work toward my goals because they're good for me and they make my life better and because I truly believe it's worth it to put the work in - not because I'll feel like a jerk if I don't. 

That may be a small distinction, but it's an important one, I think.

So that's that for my resolutions.  (And no, they're not anything dramatic or thrilling, don't let the secrecy fool you.  They're really quite ordinary, probably shared by half the population.  But these, these particular ones, are mine.  So I'm secreting them away until next year.)

As for this lil' blog and all the hopes I have for her in the coming year: stay tuned.  I hope to start posting more regularly, though I have to admit I'm intrigued by the slow blogging movement (well, not necessarily every word of that manifesto, exactly, but the idea behind it) and that seems to be the way my blog-style is headed.  I don't have much desire to fill the internet up with more crap, in other words.  So I plan to blog when I feel I have something of worth to say, and my hope is that I'll be more conscious about unearthing those things of worth in the first place.

And how is the new year treating you all so far?  Any resolutions you won't feel guilty about sharing?