Harsh Reality Number 3

 

Since starting this blog last year, I have regularly been asked about how to become a professional writer. Mary, one of my keener subscribers (see – I didn’t forget you), recently raised the topic again and prompted me to think some more on it. Some of the issues related to this discussion I covered previously in my series on The Professional Writer, but what I didn’t cover was how to get writing work in the first place.

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For many, the article that follows may seem negative and discouraging. That is not my intent. I merely want to illustrate the harsh realities of the grit, learning, commitment and – let’s face it – luck that goes into convincing someone to actually pay you for your words.

Are You Really a Writer?

I’ve been a member of many writing groups online. By far the most illuminating for me were the forums at Project Greenlight Australia. (You can read my previous post on my experiences in the competition.) The range of skill on show was immense, but it was very easy to work out who stood a chance of achieving their dream and who would forever remain convinced that the world just doesn’t recognise their ‘genius’. Writing is about more than having ideas and stringing words together (although I’ve come across some aspiring writers that have trouble even with that). Professional writing means understanding how words work, what structure is, how to shape tone and atmosphere, pace and meaning.
Above all, writing is about clarity. If the reader has to ask you what you meant, you’ve failed as a writer. This was a common issue among some amateur writers at Project Greenlight. If someone were to suggest they had difficult understanding the events of Act Two, for example, the writer would imply that it was the reader’s fault for not understanding. A failure to get the message across to an averagely literate person is ALWAYS the writer’s fault.
I have a shelf at home bulging full of ‘how to write’ books. Books on the structure of screenplays. Books on how to build a dramatic storyline. Books on crafting a killer final act. Books on character, story arcs and the seven basic plots. Books on grammar. Books on the evolution and history of the language. Books on modern usage. Books on the techniques of successful writers. Books on copywriting. Books on proofreading and editing. Books on formatting. And there’s more, I’m sure of it.
I have read every single one. Some of them twice.
Does reading a lot of ‘how to’ books make me a writer? No. But if I want to repair my own car, I don’t open the bonnet and assume because I can drive that I can tune the engine. Just because you can read or write to a high-school standard doesn’t mean you can ‘Write’ write. Filling journals of your heart-felt poetry at home, or having a hard-drive full of great ideas for films that only make sense to you, doesn’t make you a writer any more than cutting my own grass and weeding the rockery makes me a landscape gardener.
During Project Greenlight, I came across many people who felt their enthusiasm and high school English education were enough to make them writers. These were often the same people that would sneer at discussions of structure or pace, believing these complex ideas were not for them. What I suspect is that these people dismissed the tools of a true writer, because to admit they are important would mean admitting to themselves that they weren’t ready to be a writer.
What is the lesson here? Follow the rules of the masters – whether in grammar or structure or pace or format or anything. The rules exist because they work. If you can’t describe how the plot beats of your script fit into the three act structure, can’t define onomatopoeia or explain the difference between a simile and a metaphor, you need to hit the books. Amateurs should never avoid the rules and only the most gifted of proven writers can – sometimes – break the form. Ignorance of the rules is no excuse.

Es Sanchez