New screenwriters, new filmmakers, new students, new neighbours and their cats often track me down and demand that I tell them the best screenwriting books and websites out there, “to learn from.”

I answer, “Psychology stuff.” A knowingness around human behavior=an eventual command of characters.

There’s a really cool BAFTA chat with Charlie Kaufman on the YouTube, posted around 2018, go find it. He offers a million nuggets of gold for writers and humans alike. About simple things, like being human, and the benefits of being thoughtful. One topic he kicks around is that of the “wound”, we all have, both specific to us and also common to everyone. That’s important.

Another point in his discussion that I’ll forever cherish is when Mr. Kaufman states, paraphrasing, “When you’re certain, you stop being curious. And here’s the one thing I know about the thing you are certain about: You’re wrong.” This talk was given well before Ted Lasso put “Be Curious Like A Koi Fish Or Whatever” on t-shirts and bumper stickers.

I’ve been actively re-framing my relationship with creativity over the past six or seven years. I had to. Bitterness was sinking in, and chasing outcomes became far more important than just making the thing in the moment. The insightful but admittedly awkward talkers like Charlie Kaufman — and the passionate, gravely, breezy-articulate talkers like Ethan Hawke — have helped me. Go listen to them for hours.

I muse I meditate I think I walk I do everything under the sun to help birth a new idea. The one thing I’ll never do again, however, is “Sit Down To Write”. Never, not ever again.

How are you writing this blog, Idiot? Give me a minute to cook please and stop taking everything so ultra-literal. God, that voice never quits!

This is how I used to approach makin’ stuff, tortured artist alert: “Don’t bother me. I am sitting down to write!” I used to think that’s what we’re supposed to do. How great art is made. Sit, ruminate, doubt myself, question my choices, fight, be truly miserable. Instead of calling it “Sitting Down To Write”, I should have referred to those times as “Sitting Down To Find New Ways To Simultaneously Disappoint And Hate Myself.”

I would sit and demand answers, immediately.

I would say things like I should know what she’s going to say. I should know what he wants to do. I should have figured this out way earlier.

I should know everything.

I made up this world, these characters, these circumstances, these locations, these lines. So why do I struggle? Why does this suck? Why isn’t this fun?

Because I thought the whole point was…figuring it all out. As soon as possible.

Instead of sitting and ruminating and radiating anxiousness in the “I Don’t Know” of it all — which is a state that is far less about creativity, and far more about Who do I send this draft to when I’m done and how much money and fame will I get? — I do things a little differently.

I still recognize the “I Don’t Know” of it all…but now, I love it. I don’t curse it, I don’t fight it, I don’t “Sit Down To Write” and bash my head and curse my “lazy” mind and wish I still smoked cigarettes.

No more of, “What’s the point of this scene?” I don’t know!!!

Now, it’s simply I don’t know…and I cannot wait to find out what happens next.

It’s the David Lynch puzzle analogy that I’ve heard him deliver a trillion times, but it finally, I mean finally took root in my soul.

You are blessed to have been gifted that idea. You can foster, think, brainstorm, care for, and try and expand that idea…but it’s not yours. You are given 25 pieces of a 250 piece puzzle. Over time…OVER TIME(not on my time, your time, anyone else’s time, mind you)…you get the honour and privilege of shepherding that idea, fanning the flame, guiding it, and if you stick with it long enough, you’ll be around to witness that final puzzle piece lock in.

And that. That is, without a shred of doubt, the best thing. The best feeling. Out of all the possible feelings. Ever. Case closed end of subject no further debate I will not take your questions.

Never say “I Don’t Know” with a shameful, hunched over posture, downward inflection ever again. Say it with a glint in the eye, a vibration in the chest, an overwhelming level of excitement to find out what happens next.

That’s writing. That’s living. That’s better than any screenwriting book.