New Ground

You reach a dead end. You have the same thoughts, same complaints, same answers.

You're torn between getting away from yourself, or fighting deeper into it.

Watch a film, go for a walk, read a self-help book, whatever you think will pull you through. But nothing you purposefully do, will.

Creativity is when you all your knowledge, talent, ambition and ideas find a new pathway. And then you're free, you can flow non-stop, and your complaints become opportunities, and life feels good again.

You can't force it, because you don't know where the path is. But without getting lost, you never find new terrain.

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Habits of Creativity and Productivity

Productivity requires attention. It demands that you put your work as the main priority.

Creativity comes when you allow yourself to do the work. As writers we often don't write until we 'feel' something, but in actuality the best writing doesn't come out until we have been working away at it for a while.

Your best creative work comes from a mystical place. You look back at what you did and wonder where the hell it came from. Your work, mixed with your imagination, yields creative work beyond the capacity for which you can logically explain.

As artists, we're grumpy a lot because we so rarely reach that plateau, yet we crave it. This is cushioned by the distractions.

We get lost in Facebook updates, and chat messengers. Yet in a bid to stay productive we update the fan page and start crowdfunding for projects and we tweet about the meetings we're having.

And these things become habitual. When we have a poignant life moment, instead of having it, we tweet about it -- and as soon as you do that you cut off the moment.

They've proved that our brains are changing. That habit you have of checking Facebook and scrolling through tweets -- that's habitual. It's like brushing your teeth. What does this do to your productivity? As an actor, if you're tweeting in-between takes, or if you're a frustrated writer making coffee every seven minutes, something needs to change -- because these habits will come to define you, they're not going to change by themselves.

There have been studies. I haven't kept the sources, because I read and read and research and then disregard the links, but you can Google this stuff --- and the research says we're losing our capacity for introspection and deep thought. Rather than have a profound thought about our boredom, or loneliness, we play a game on our phones, or we text people jokes the moment we have a silent second. We ward these things off, go for instant answers rather than deeper truths.

But creativity requires breathing space.

Sure, some people will say 'Facebook helps my creativity', and that's great-- good for them. But if Shakespeare had all these notifications to check, he'd never have sustained his thoughts for long enough.

This is why we imagine thinkers and dreamers as being out in the fields and mountains. They need space, they need to be able to dream and fantasize without a phone beep saying 'enough now, check this message'.

You can be adequate this way. But the world calls for more than adequate, and to be that you need to value your creativity higher than the distractions. You need to put them to one side and focus on your work. You do this by listening to what happens inside of you.

It's about energy. And time. Every time you check your Facebook 'likes' or refresh your emails or flick through the TV channels, these seconds and minutes and hours add up. There are only twenty four hours in a day.

If you work a demanding job or have children or someone you care for, then time becomes even more precious. So if you're looking around Twitter or YouTube hoping for answers, you're wasting your time. Do your work. The work you know you want to be doing. If you feel your passion has gone, you'll find it again when you make it your priority. The distractions are distractions -- a sea of inventions that can be helpful but are too often a way of keeping us from opening our minds and using them to their full capacity.

Notice all your habits.
Decide whether they help or hinder your creative work.
Adjust them accordingly, immediately.

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'The Artist's Voice' - FREE Kid In The Front Row E-Book

I have just published my first e-book. It's called 'The Artist's Voice' - and is written as a tool to help you get past your creative blocks and all those little ways we sabotage our work when it comes to doing what we love: creating art.

You can download it at this link. The e-book is FREE to all and I encourage you to share it with as many people as you can. Download it, print it, email it to friends, stick it on your kindle; my only hope for the book is that it gets out there into the world and helps a few people with their creativity.

This is the first e-book I have published through the blog; so I am really interested in your feedback, too. Thanks all! Have a great new year!

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JOHN O'FARRELL - Writer Interview

I first discovered John O'Farrell in an airport. Well, I discovered one of his books. I genuinely did not want the flight to end because I was more engrossed in his writing than I had ever been before in pretty much anything.

From there on, I read everything of his I could get my hands on. Luckily, there was a lot of it out there, including his weekly Guardian column (which stopped in mid 2005). His books This Is Your Lifeand The Best A Man Can Get are two of the funniest books I've ever read. Period. 

I've just discovered, through my remarkable research, and by that I mean Wikipedia, that you started out doing stand-up comedy. How was that experience, and what made you realise that it wasn't for you after-all?

I started at University where it wasn’t hard to stand out, and so moved to London with a sub-Young Ones type character that I did a few times. I won a talent competition at Jongleurs but then made the mistake of doing an entirely new set in front of 400 pissed estate agents and some embarrassed friends of mine who had come along to support me. I thought I’d take a short break from stand up and it’s now been 26 years.

Who are your biggest influences?

My influences are many and varied and probably range from my parents to the last person I was talking to. I was very struck by Jonathan Swift and George Orwell as a teenager and I suppose I should talk about great authors. But the truth is I was more obsessed with sitcoms and sketch shows as I was developing as a wannabee comedy writer, so Monty Python and Clement and La Frenais and Galton and Simpson were bigger influences than Dostoyevsky.

You have, in the past, written weekly columns for The Independent and The Guardian - and I always found them hilarious, but thinking as a writer - I imagine it to be a huge pressure to be entertaining and funny, week in, week out. Did you feel that pressure?

More so at the beginning of my stint - I remember thinking ‘Wow – this is like doing the topicals for Spitting Image; I am under orders to be funny within the next few hours.’ In fact I was writing a comment piece, and the greater pressure was deciding what I thought about a particular subject. Does religious freedom extend to ritual slaughter of animals for example – I dunno.

My experience with writing comedy is that there are some things I do that people really like, and respond to -- but when I become too aware of them they become a kind of schtick, they're cheating. Do you know what I mean? Even when I read some of the great comedy writers like Woody Allen -- sometimes I find the writing hysterical, other times I think "No, he's just playing with words and being lazy" - do you ever have this problem?

I know what you mean, but the important thing is to surprise your audience by taking an unexpected turn. If your audience start to see the clockwork then you have been telling jokes in the same way for too long.

Are you a good judge of your own material?

It’s not really for me to say, but I generally agree with the verdicts on Amazon about which are my best books and which are not so strong.

I first read 'The Best A Man Can Get' on a flight to America, I guess this was like eight years ago. For the entire flight I could not stop laughing, to the point where it looked like I was having some kind of seizure. I bring this up now because, to be honest, it was a humiliating experience, especially for someone like me who is quite shy and likes to stay away from attention. My point is; you are responsible, and I am wondering if you can compensate me in some way or perhaps, at the very least, issue an apology?

If you had been on a train people might have seen what you were laughing at and might have at least bought a copy. I won’t apologise because the alternative was looking at all the crap in the duty free brochure and that’s even more hilarious.





I've always wanted to see your books as movies, because they are so funny, but I guess that -- so much of what is humorous is what you're doing with the words. Do you find that difficult to translate to the screen? I'm thinking back to some of the situations in the books, and of course -- the situations would be funny on screen, but you'd lose some of the inner thoughts of the characters.

I did actually write a screenplay for The Best a Man Can Get for Paramount, but the credit crunch came along at the same time that the studio head changed and they needed my script to put under his wobbly desk. I did the Robert McKee course in my twenties, so perhaps that gave me a screenwriter’s approach to story structure.

I never saw it, but I see that 'May Contain Nuts' was made into a TV movie. Were you happy with it?

It was adapted by my old writing partner Mark Burton who I think did a good job – although it did have to fit the shape of an ITV two parter.

How does the writing experience differ between fiction and non-fiction?

Fiction is harder but more satisfying. Plus my non-fiction has tended to be very ‘British’, so you don’t get the bonus of gaining new readers abroad.

What is your writing habit? Do you have a schedule? A particular place you like to write?

I keep office hours and like to work in the London Library in St James Sq if I can. When I work at home I always walk the dog first. I do my best stuff in the mornings, so if there are meetings or bits of filming being arranged I try to make sure they are towards the end of the day.

Do you suffer from writers block? And if so, how do you kick it?

I wrote my first history book because I didn’t have the right idea for a novel. But I am never unable to write anything. Just lower your standards and continue. You can always come back later and cut it all out.

One of the things I talk about a lot on the site, is that to be a writer, or musician, or actor -- basically, any kind of artist, is that it's a long journey. That you don't start out great, and that talent is not enough. You have to put the hours in. I am a big believer in the 10,000 hours theory. Looking back at your career - I see a real sense of growth -- starting out with stand up, a few bits of radio and article writing; and then onwards to television, novels, and your political work. It looks to me like you got better and better, year by year, and I'm wondering if you see it in the same way?

I’m not sure I got better and better but you do get more confident you can complete the task. I would never have imagined I could have finished a whole book, and yet now that bit doesn’t worry me. I do deliberately set myself new challenges though, writing a history book, or setting up a new comedy website or in the case of my new novel, writing a first person narrative in which the protagonist knows absolutely nothing about himself.

You are very politically active. I myself tend to hide away from anything that smacks of politics. Luckily, I can read you, because comedy is pretty much the only way I can stomach politics. Am I the kind of person you are writing for?

Actually I’m the kind of person I’m writing for – and then I just hope there are enough people who feel the same way.

Have you had a lot of rejection as a writer?

I had lots of stuff sent back from publishers or the BBC in my early 20s, but then when it took off, I went quite a long way fairly quickly, so I haven’t had to be too resilient. As a comedy writer doing lines for performers, most of the stuff wouldn’t make the final edit – but that was always part of the deal. So no, the rejection will come later, when people stop wanting to read the stuff…

What else do you want to achieve in your career?

I just want to keep writing funny books with something to say. Oh and maybe a play, and have a film, and bring down the government with one well-aimed joke – so nothing particularly ambitious.

John's new novel 'The Man Who Forgot His Wife' will be released released in March 2012.

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Wild World

I was floating around Spotify the other day and came across this version of Cat Steven's 'Wild World', it's the demo version. I love that about Spotify. It's like the early Napster days. You thought you knew what music you liked, but somehow you'd find yourself in a whole other place. You'd go look for an Oasis song, but then you'd find an Oasis cover by a Dutch band. And then you'd download it but it'd not really be a Dutch band but a rare Bob Dylan song. You'd find out the real name of it and listen to it, and then listen to a live version and then listen to a cover version by some kid in Texas. And you'd constantly be finding new bits of unexpected magic.

Spotify is bringing that back. It's not quite the same, everything is official; so you don't find bootlegs and obscure live tracks. But pretty much anything official, you can find.

And I came across this version of 'Wild World'.

Technically, I'm sure, the released version is much better, more complete, but this one, in it's raw form, is surprisingly powerful. You believe him even more than you do in the famous version. It's simple, it's quietly powerful - he sings "Oh baby, baby it's a wild world" and you really feel that he's singing to someone. You feel like they're in the room with you.

It's great when you find a piece of art where someone means something. Most artists don't hold on to who they are. How can you? The money is not in personal expression, it's in compromise. Used to be people would invest time and money in the Dylan's, Woody Allen's and Chaplin's, because It'd pay dividends a few years down the line when they were fully grown.

Now they just force the work out of them, take any juice they can find and then drop it. Nobody stays relevant for more than a year or two.

That's why it's so powerful when you find something that resonates. Find me a song from the last five years as honest and personal as this 'Wild World' demo, I doubt you can find it. Maybe it's hidden on YouTube or MySpace somewhere, but I doubt it's caught traction in the wider world.

There was this girl on the X Factor a couple of years back. She was all over the place but she had something unique. Was it talent? I think so. Did I like her music? No. But she had attitude and ideas. and she was only 16! I don't even need to tell you her name because, if you don't know her, it doesn't matter -- she has no relevance now. She's a footnote at best.  They took her and turned her into something bland and normal. I was in a cafe with a friend earlier and they were playing her video today. I hardly recognised her. She was full of make-up and bland singing to a forgetful track. Everything unique and original they'd sucked right out of her. 

You never get that back.

That's why you have to hold onto it for dear life.

The great artists in film held on to who they really were and experimented, and stuck by their instincts. Were they often wrong? Yes. Did they make bad films that flopped? Yes. But they learned from them. They kept coming back.

Artists get longevity as a reward for their persistence. That's why you have to be in it for the long run. It takes years to get great. Most of us are still mostly failing, but it's a process. You stick at it.

It's like Cat Stevens says in the song:

"But if you wanna leave, take good care,

Hope you make a lot of nice friends out there,

But just remember there's a lot of bad and beware"

There's no point being scared of failure. You get stronger every time you create something. And you learn to take criticism. The more you discover yourself, the more the criticism comes. People hate Ricky Gervais, but more people love him.

I think what I like about the song is that it feels like an old friend. An old friend that you need. A wise figure that says to you "Hey, y'know what, it's a wild world."

"Oh baby baby, it's a wild world, 

It's hard to get by just upon a smile"

But we're doing okay, I think, don't you? We're creating. We're making it happen. That's what it's all about. 

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Anything Is Possible

It's just ideas. And cameras. And microphones.

Dream big. Begin small.

You're unique. Capture that in a bottle and release it into the world.

The world won't care at first, because artistry is a long game. It takes time to learn about ourselves, and our craft.

But we're better than we were three years ago. Better still than we were three months ago.

Watch films. Read books.

Stop watching films. Stop reading books, and create stuff.

Stop creating stuff and go have a romance, or a road trip. Go on a roller-coaster. Reconnect with your daughter.

Artists are the sum total of the magic alchemy of their unique lives. Dreaming mixed with insight mixed with expertise mixed with luck.

Rejection and failure are part of the game. The bitterness makes you fucked up. That's your edge, that's when you say "screw the rules" and reinvent the wheel.

Charlie Chaplin. Tupac Shakur. Ayrton Senna. Bill Hicks. Bruce Springsteen. All my heroes, in their respective fields, got screwed over by the system, by the gatekeepers. Yet they succeeded.

They're the masters. Lesser known artists thrive every day, all around the world.

It begins with an idea. An impulse. Years ago, 'Shawshank Redemption' didn't exist yet. And then Stephen King had to decide whether his idea was worthwhile or not.

J.K. Rowling was travelling on a train. A thought hit her. Something about wizards and quidditch. She decided to write it down and eventually I hear she did pretty well.

Anything is possible. Dream big, begin small.

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Catching The Wave

A spark can come from anywhere. Being an artist is not just about producing the art, but learning how to catch it, bottle it, and release it. I would imagine there isn't a writer reading this who hasn't often had the experience of profound insight, followed by a horrific attempt at getting it down on the page. 

Art touches us the most when it captures a piece of who we are on the page, the screen, the stage, the canvas. But how does the artist get it there? This is perhaps the hardest thing of all. That's why artists aren't impressed when someone says "I have an idea". We all have ideas. The professional gets it down on the page. 

But I don't mean professional in a traditional sense. This isn't about the discipline of starting your masterpiece every morning at 9am. This is about catching the waves however they may come.

It's as if there are thousands of spirits floating up in the sky; some of them are beautiful and hazy, some are like fierce rockets. You have to be a martial artist, adept at attracting the falling stars.

The information is in the moment. Remember your first kiss? First job offer? Remember when someone you love died? Remember when your favorite team scored? Remember when you were fired? They carry the juice. But how to get into those feelings? How to indulge in them, enjoy them, and then turn them into your art? 

It doesn't have to be the signposted life moments that provide the juice. The quieter moments are often more profound. Ever been sitting in the garden staring up at the night time sky, and felt a big wave of the essence of yourself and life? That feeling is unique to you. That essence you need to get into your art. 

There are times when I write in a very purposeful and disciplined way, like my recent post about Bridesmaids. Sometimes I just catch a feeling and write from that place in me, like with new york gone. The feeling came without capital letters, without traditional sentencing, it was like a wave, a memory, a feeling. I tried to capture that.

and the last time i left new york i left all my favourite people. and the guy who showed me around queens moved to la and the guy from the plane could be anywhere now and me and the artist kinda fell out and the girl who waited for me that time in jfk packed up her bags and got gone across the world and now i could go back, and i will go back, but so much is gone.

Sometimes you need to be open to exploring the wilderness, to not block any thought that comes, to jump on the wave and see where it goes. Those moments are often the most truthful.

But the thing about my New York post is that it didn't resonate with many people, even though it did resonate with me. This is where you see your own limitations as an artist, or perhaps a lack of experience. It takes people ten, twenty or thirty years to be great. It's a balancing act -- matching your insights with skills and understanding. 

There's so much in those extremities. The misery. The hope. The excitement. The romance. The depression. The confusion. There's gold to be mined -- but you can't be too disciplined or writerly about it, because then you miss it! Or crush it! Or scare it away! You need to deeply experience things for them to be of any true use. 

That's the problem with blogs. The writers get addicted to their followers, addicted to the comments, comforted by their place on the interweb. The posts become by-the-numbers, shop-front-profound but never quite real. 

It's a thing we all struggle with, staying true, capturing the real essence of the life we're going through. That's why we admire the greats, they lived life and reflected it back to us. The geniuses did it again and again. 

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One Storyteller's Process

Writing is tough. We all have our own styles; and it can be daunting when we read interviews with writers or listen to podcasts with gurus, because they often have very specific rules, entirely different to our own. 

So it's good to get different perspectives. There is no right way to write -- all that matters is that you get the work done, and you write well. Zoje Stage has written a guest post about her process, which I find very fascinating because it is quite similar to my own. So many 'experts' tell you to get up at 9am and begin writing immediately, in a structured way. Zoje Stage has a different approach, which she eloquently explains in the following guest blog. 

A guest post by Zoje Stage.

Whenever I hear a writer discuss their writing process I am intrigued. Intrigued in a similar way as when I see someone with a really interesting tattoo: I recognize the beauty of the tattoo, yet I have never once coveted another's tattoo as my own. Both of these things are singularly personal. Though I'm sure no one out there really covets my writing style (or my tattoos), here's how I work:

I do not write every day. Or even every month. Yet I consider myself to be a fairly prolific writer. I average three or four new screenplays a year, plus rewrites and polishes. I know it is common for writers to have a set schedule, squeezing in writing time before and after work. And many writers outline first, or create a synopsis or treatment to serve as a guide. These methods don't work for me. I need uninterrupted time, and the only instances when I have not finished a script are when I attempted too much initial research or planning. Because, you see, I am a stream-of-consciousness writer.

I have written this way since I wrote my first screenplay twenty-three years ago. My process requires a certain amount of "down time" - which is when the things I've been influenced by settle into my brain and soul. I keep a notebook of story ideas and I jot things down. But what really gets the process going is, no kidding, a moment of inspiration. Sometimes it comes while I am watching a movie or staring into space. Sometimes - again, no kidding - it comes to me in a dream.

For me, the "moment of inspiration" means that something suddenly gels: a couple of characters, a couple of scenes - and the initial story idea. The next step is to look at my calendar and see when I can fit in some extended writing time - preferably where I can write for five or six days in a row, several hours each day. Then, in the days leading up to my designated start time, I let my mind wander around my story and characters. I jot down notes for scene ideas; I pick character names and occupations.

I write a first draft in an average of seven days, writing for as long as I possibly can on each day. As a stream-of-consciousness writer, I need to be in the story - in the moment - to generate the momentum needed to finish a first draft. Writing has always been a magical process for me, because I don't know on Page One exactly where things are going to go, or how we will get there. As I get into the process, I start to see different paths, and I continually jot down scene ideas as part of each writing day.

My goal for a first draft is simply to finish it as quickly as possible. There are certain tricks I employ to make the process easier, such as: I end each day in the middle of a sentence (usually dialogue) right smack in the middle of a scene. The idea is to "set up" the next writing day so the hard part - starting - won't be so daunting. Sometimes I still find myself avoiding the start of the writing day, inspired instead to empty the dishwasher or scrub a spot of toothpaste off of the floor (yes, I wander as I brush my teeth). 

On a full writing day I'll write fifteen pages or more. On a half day, I shoot for five to ten. My style requires inertia... keep going! I am a hunt-and-peck typist, but I do it incredibly quickly. My stories are primarily character driven - and I can see that my style might not work as well with plot-driven material. But I have written a fair share of horror, science fiction and even action, though I think it is the depth of character that sets my work apart even then. 

After I get the first draft, I usually set the script aside for awhile. My first drafts tend to be pretty good - but clearly subsequent drafts are better. But after the initial flurry of activity, I again require "down time" to gain perspective on the story and generate new ideas. Sometimes it helps to have someone read the script and point out holes, missed opportunities, or confusing moments. But, as most writers know, it's very hard to find the reader who responds to the needs of your story without altering it toward their own sensibilities. As a rule, if one person has criticism (or praise) for a certain element, I ignore it. If two or more people criticize (or praise) the same thing, then I take it seriously.

Screenwriting in particular is an art form where people want to stick their fingers in your pie. I am not here to feed everyone. I consider myself to be a conceptual artist, and as such it is imperative that I defend my work. And it is equally imperative that I understand how my work will function (or not) in the real world. I am always open to suggestions that make my initial idea better. I am rarely open to ideas that spin my story in a totally new direction. 

I am somewhat schizophrenic in my writing, as I write both independent films that I want to direct, and also higher concept scripts that I want to sell. But my process is the same. Especially when one is engaged in a precarious occupation that may or may not pay off financially, I think it is vital that the effort feel meaningful and fulfilling. I love what I write. I love the stories that emerge during the writing process; I love my characters; I love how I feel after creating something that didn't exist a week before.

I have believed since I was a teenager that everyone is given a talent, and that it behooves us to recognize our talent and try to make the most of it. Some might look at my twenty-three years of effort as an exercise in masochistic tendencies: a constant cycle of victorious out-put tempered by nearly non-stop rejection. But, in the immortal words of Popeye, "I am what I am." I can't be another kind of writer or another kind of person. I could wish that more people see the magic that I try to produce, but I have no illusions about the reality of marketing or the nature of competition. 

Your style of writing probably won't change for having read this; you may even feel more validated that your writing style is right for you. (And it is.) We are each the accumulation of our own experiences and unique imagination. My stories have been set in motion by being a highly sensitive person living with an imperfect body, influenced by the strange and sometimes dark permutations of human behavior. I think I am a stream-of-consciousness writer because I process the world physically - and I have to spew all that I've absorbed back out into a more coherent form. Being a storyteller lets me breathe - in, out, in, out...  

For whatever it's worth, this is my process.

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Your INNER CRITIC - Change The Conversation!

The people we meet, companies we work for and institutions we come into contact with; they all play their part in rejecting us and judging us.

But most of it is done on an inner level by ourselves.

It happens when you write a genius script for a month until you wake up one morning convinced it sucks. Or when you're driving to an audition for a role you were born to play when you suddenly realise you're a pathetic actor.

Ever notice how much authority you give your inner critic? It's an all knowing God!

Except that it's not. The critic is your biggest fears multiplied by 500. Makes you think of the time you messed up on stage when you were 7, or when your school teacher said your writing was 'too basic'.

That was then and this is now. The crap you got from the world became internalised and now you're your own worst enemy.

The thing to realise about the inner critic is that it's not fact. Your inner critic isn't Spielberg or Meryl Streep, it's just a vulnerable part of you desperate not to be stranded, naked, and pointed at.

Hear what your critic says, but realise it's just one viewpoint. It's not a fact.

Your critic will say: "you suck! You have no talent, you're ugly, and you've lost something over the years".

You wouldn't let me say that to you. If your friends or family said it you'd be deeply offended -- so why say it to yourself? Why believe it? How can you be creative when you put yourself down so much?

You can't. There needs to be love. You've achieved lots. You've decided to be an artist in a world that only cares about city bankers and reality show contestants. You're brave. You have talent and you know it, so don't ever let your inner critic sabotage you. You're too good, too talented.

Perfection is impossible. Your critic only wants you to write when you have a masterpiece. That's impossible. You can't ever make a masterpiece on purpose.

A masterpiece is when a project, by hard work and luck, has less mistakes than all the others.

But you have to be willing to make mistakes.

You're not perfect. Artists aren't meant to be. We just step out the front door and create, do some hard work and have fun.

Stop stopping yourself. Your critic is not an expert. It's just scared. Tell your critic to take a break, or to give you constructive thoughts rather then condemnation.

Make art!

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Youth / Old Age

There are two types of people in the world. Actually there are probably a lot more but these two types are so polarized and so prevalent in my life that I feel I need to address them. Because they'll be relevant to you too.

It's old age against youth. But I'm not talking years, I'm talking attitude. To be creative is to be five years old, lost in the possibilities, judging nothing, believing everything and anything anytime you can. You dream big and reach far.

And your life is filled with failure and near misses but you keep firing on, casing the promised land like some lost soul in a Springsteen song.

Old age is when you think you know the world. Think that what is is. You judge everything, because you know better. You know it's impossible.

And you're so quick to cut down anyone who tries. You throw lines at them about responsibility and risk and grown upness, and you're not satisfied until you've killed the young, left them losering, forced into drowning out their dreams and settling for a life surrounded by the same three people bitching about the weather.

This dynamic plays out in everyday circumstances. You get the choice to be caught up in the magic of life or you can claim to know the exact nature of everything and shut it down, close it off and hibernate until death.

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Fuel In The Tank

The general wisdom is: watch as many movies as you can in as many genres as you can. I understand that and agree with it in principle, although it has never worked for me.

I mostly focus on what I love. On what makes my soul stir. If I die tomorrow I don't want to have wasted my time watching Japanese films I don't understand, or Hollywood films that I've figured out after nine minutes.

I chase greatness. I wanna find the artists. I crave that feeling I got when I first saw "Adventureland" or "Once" or "The West Wing". Those of you who are regulars here will know what I mean. Because my blogging isn't diverse, I cover the same ground often. I go after the things I love, the things that speak to me. I'm not here to review every new release. I watch them, but mostly have nothing to say about them.

The films I love have a big impact on me. After watching Woody Allen films I feel monumentally inspired. I can't wait to sit down with my laptop and storm through some dialogue.

When I watch Cameron Crowe movies I feel so alert to the little intricacies of life. The shared moments. It opens up a part of me, a part that loves to meet people on the road, that likes to stand up for an ideal in a crowded office, or likes to sing along to Elton John. It opens it all up.

It's fuel.

I've been re-watching 'Ally McBeal' and 'One Foot In The Grave'. Those shows reignite something inside of me, because they're who I am.

I'm not the guy they hire to write the new comic book movie, nor can I write the film where Leo dives through alternate realities and shoots the bad guy and takes down the FBI. Someone else focused on that as a kid and they fill the tank up on something different.

I'm optimised for the narrow field I'm most interested in.

All my life; through fascination, awe, and careful study, I've seen these traits in all my heroes. They zone in on what they're passionate about, what fuels their art.

It's all too easy to marginalize and oppress the very things that, in all actuality, are at the core of your creativity. The things that influence us the most we often tuck into a corner and assume we've outgrown or already stripped for parts.

But everyone has to refuel. Top yourself up on what you love, because that stuff is a drug that will have you leaping into the skies as an artist.

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The Old Age Art Project - An Experiment In Creative Blocks

Elena is one of my closest friends. I've known her for twelve years. Our lives are quite different these days -- she works long hours in a supermarket and I am making films. When we can, we meet up for a tea and catch up on each others lives and chat about days gone by. 

And then we talk about our careers. In fact, we met up this time because Elena is getting a bit restless in her job and wants to move on to something new. We planned to meet up, drink some tea, and then I would help her craft her new C.V, ready to send out to potential employers. We talked about potential jobs and where she saw herself working. 

The thing you need to know about Elena, is that she's a very talented artist. I've seen the stuff she did in her teens -- it was amazing. Extremely creative and unusual -- she really had her own style. But somewhere along the way, the creativity stopped. Life got in the way, and the paintbrushes dried solid. Whenever we meet up -- inevitably we get on to talking about art. We're quite similar in our creative thoughts and ideals. The difference being that I create a lot more work than she does. In recent years, she hasn't been creating anything at all. Whenever the thought arises, she instantly blocks it out, dismisses it, and moves on to other things. Whether it's distractions, commitments, or plain old self-sabotage -- she's never able to be creative. 

As we talked about potential career moves, it was very obvious to me that sitting in front of me is a talented artist. Underpinning all the thoughts about job changes and mortgages and bills is the fact that there's an artist bursting with talent. The problem is, that artist has been stuffed away and lost. Occasionally, she pops up and picks up a paintbrush or a pencil, but she's soon knocked down again by the world, and by herself. 

As we sat there drinking tea and eating pancakes -- I ripped off a piece of paper from my notebook and said "I want you to draw something about an old person and pancakes. You have three minutes."

I handed it over to her. She said no. Dismissed the idea. Her creativity doesn't work like that. I understood; neither does mine. So I ripped out two more pages and said "Tell me what to do and I'll write a two page scene." She said "Old people and feet." I wrote the scene immediately. It wasn't my best work ever, but I'd written it. I completed the task. 

I handed her my pen and offered these words: "Old age. Pancakes." She took the pen and paper and began working. I relaxed and browsed my Twitter feed. 

Three minutes later, she had created this:

What do you think? I think that's talent. Three minutes with my old pen and a piece of scrap paper. I loved it. 

I said that we should do a bigger project. Elena gave me her cute grumpy look which means NO WAY. Elena can be a perfectionist with her work. A huge reason that she doesn't create is because of how demanding her inner-critic is. When she creates, it has to be greatness. So I took the pressure off. I told her that the project will be anonymous and I'll share it on the blog. That way, even if it sucks, you won't know it's her personally. 

I gave her five scraps of paper and my pen. My rules were that she must create five drawings in a one week period, all on the topic of 'Old Age'. I also insisted that she use these scraps of paper and the pen that I gave her. If the drawings sucked? If they were useless? That's fine. The project is not about perfection, it's merely about creating. 

A week later, she gave me back the completed project. Her first art-work in years.

After it was completed, I interviewed Elena about the process. 

Prior to when we met up -- when was the last time you created a piece of art?

To be honest I doodled a little self portrait (from behind) maybe a week before this project. It came out of feeling totally frustrated that I couldn't just DO something. And then I did. It was small and weak looking but that corresponded with how I was feeling at that moment in time.

What has stopped you from doing it for so long?

Whenever I think abut drawing or creating anything my mind predictably connects back to a time in school when things were just awful for me, emotionally. I just cant seem to detach the way I was feeling and the things that happened back then, to make me lose faith in my sense of self, from present day life. It is a struggle to just do something and not stop half way through and tear it to pieces, both mentally and physically.

What is your ideal setting/environment for doing creative work?

I used to think I had an environment. Like I know at a previous time in life it was all about turning the music up and blocking outside family noise and just being with myself and the way I felt. But for this project I found myself doodling in the garden with my coffee and in the company of my fiance while he played me the most recent album on his iPhone. It seems that I needed to be in a calm state, ready for things to flow. Far different from the way it used to be.

How did you feel when I handed you a piece of paper and said 'You have three minutes to draw something about an old person?'

So unbelievably under pressure I could have cried. In fact I felt myself get all teary eyed! Thinking any minute now I am going to explode from this overwhelming fear. All over a 2 minute doodle.

How did you feel after you had created it?

Unsure, and nervous awaiting your reaction. It seems I'm not happy with having just done something creative; it has to be approved of and liked and blah di blah... But after I took a few deep breaths and realised that I liked it even if you didn't, (I did..), I felt elated! Thrilled that I'd managed to not run away from the paper, pen and expectation.

When I first mentioned doing the 'Old Age Art Project' and handed you five scraps of paper, what did you think?

'Is he being serious?'

'Doodles on scraps of paper? Is that really art? Especially if it was done by me. A no-establishment trained ''artist'''?

Then I thought, Fuck it! Why not. Even if they never get seen by anyone else other than myself I will know I did it. I was set a project and I did it.

Was you confident about doing it? Did you think you'd complete the task?

Initially I was excited and positive and full of this self belief. I never doubted that I could complete the task. The resistance I felt towards actually drawing on the last piece of paper was surprising and almost silly.

Where did you get your ideas from?

Some were memories, some were from what I saw around me and some were just from my mind. The old man with his iPod and the carnival queen came about from thinking that these ''old people'' were us. They were youth and they have these whole lives that we disregard or don't even contemplate.

What was it like working with a deadline?

Good. Exhilarating. 

Are you happy with what you created?

Yes. Some I'm more proud of than others.

Which one is your favourite?

The old man and the seaside couple.

Has this project helped you/your art in any way?

It has made me want to devote more time to creating. I still find it hard to make myself sit down and not allow the distractions of everyday stuff whisk me away from self-development

• The hardest thing is sitting down to do the work. 
• Have a deadline. 
• Don't let your imperfect location/mindset be an excuse for not doing the work. 

Elena is a great artist. It's a shame to me that she's been stopping herself from creating for so long. This is what we do as artists. This blog is richer for having published her scrap paper drawings. Art matters. The drawings exist for the mere reason that she drew them. If she didn't draw them then she wouldn't have drawn them and you wouldn't have seen them. Think of all the things that you've never seen because artists stopped themselves from playing, experimenting and creating. 

You don't need a big canvas or an expensive camera or a big money offer to create art. Use scrap paper. Use a camera phone. Use things you find in the garden. 

Now some questions for you. What do you think of this experiment? What do you think of Elena's work? 

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Intangibles

I write from feeling. For me, it's about capturing a little intangible, a tiny little something that I feel.

Labels like happy, sad, lost, alone, confused, angry; they're useful descriptive terms, but they're not the real deal.

There's a little exuberance I feel when I watch Chaplin, it makes me want to run out in the streets and jump up and down like an excited kid.

Cameron Crowe's films capture the essence of aliveness, what it is to feel possibility.

And I listen to Ryan Adams because he communicates and consoles for those lonely sorrowful pangs that I feel on those sad Sundays when they come along.

That's what I love about art, and it's what drives me to create. My difficulties in writing are never about plot or story, when it flows those things get driven and informed by the intangibles. I'm nothing without the intangibles.

That's why I gotta be vulnerable. Gotta love, gotta get lost, gotta trespass, gotta stand up for things--- because that's where the juice is. The joys of new people, the complexity of human relations, the risks -- whenever it's tricky or traumatic or exuberant, those times I find a pot of gold.

I think everyone has this. When you're coming home from a party, or driving away from the person you loved and left; you feel something different to what is expected -- and it's a feeling, an essence, that has been with you all your life.

That's where the art is at. Its great to have a clever concept or a complex plot, but they're nothing without the juice, the little diamonds you find after years on barren land.

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Those Who Do It Do It

Everyone needs encouragement. Everyone needs a push. Everyone goes through dry spells.

But if it's six months later and you're still saying to your friend "Start the script!" or "send me the DVD" then don't bother.

When you add up the pep-talks and Facebook messages you realize you've spent 20 hours encouraging one person who has yet to spend 7 minutes creating their blog or filming their scene or applying for that job.

Those who want to do it do it. I'm doing this stuff every day. Even those do-ers who have stressful office jobs and grumpy kids to feed still find ways to put the hours in.

There are some people I know who I love to pieces, they're genuinely wonderful, fascinating people; but they're not doing the work. They're talking about doing the work and they're talking about starting the project next month or next year-- just like they did last month and last year.

It takes so long to get good. You've gotta be busy failing and getting rejected every single day. Those who sit at home rejecting themselves before anyone else can, they're a drain on your time and energy.

Do the work. And help others who are doing the work. And appreciate that some people are suffering and hurting and struggling, and for a while they can't do the work. Everyone goes through that.

But those who say they'll do the work but never do-- those waiting for the summer to end or the Olympics to start before they work, they're just wasting away.

Everyone has a dream. You're either someone who does it or someone who tweets quotes about doing it but never does. And either way is fine. But if you're creative, you have to focus on the job. It takes so long to get great and we have to put the hours in. Ask anyone who made it and they'll tell you the exact same thing.

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Ryan Adams, Norah Jones, 2.37am

I was searching after a feeling tonight. Music is the quickest way to get there, it points you home. But it's hard on those nights when you don't quite know where the destination is.

I finally landed.

Not only is this a great song, but this is a wonderful video with Ryan Adams talking about his collaboration with Norah Jones. They talk about how different their styles of creativity are.

Adams invited Norah to record the track with him. They did one pass at it, and he was happy. Done.

That's what Ryan Adams is. He's prolific. He doesn't want to fit all the pieces of the puzzle, he just picks out the parts that feel right and capture the moment. The rest can stay in the box.

That's why his fans are obsessive and dedicated. Because he's real. If you're not a fan he's boring and depressing. If you are a fan, he becomes your life. There's no inbetween.

Watch the video. It'll inspire you creative people. Will make you feel less alone. And the song is as beautiful as they come.

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Opening Weekend, and Seventeen Years Later

The new releases come out and the stars sit on the sofa on the TV and someone says something about how good or bad the box office numbers were and we seem to get caught up in thinking it's important.

But what's important is, when home alone and sleepless on a random Tuesday morning at 4am, what film do you choose to watch? When you've had the worst day of your life, what film do you seek out afterwards? When you meet someone new and want to treat them to a DVD what do you buy them?

That's what's important - especially if you write or direct. I mean, if you want to make anything that'll live on after opening weekend: Just create what you HAVE to create. Do it for you, not the box office.

I went to see 'Win, Win', not because of the poster but because the same director made 'The Station Agent' and 'The Visitor'. He made small, profound movies in his own way. They're unique, they're him. That's why he does so well. The films are his own. Kevin Smith used to be like that, then he started doing anything he got offered and he's not relevant as an artist anymore, the fans lost their passion soon after he did. I'll still watch his films, I just don't care like I used too.

When you take the business route, you may get lucky. But then you live and die by the box office. And there are hundreds of journeymen who've been doing it for thirty years who will have an easier time than you. Before you know it you've had one box office hit and one dud, and you're gone.

You don't have to play that game. Instead you can just create what you think works, what turns you on creatively. Stuff that makes life bearable. That's the magic. That's the film you buy for your new girlfriend. Right now I'm listening to an old Wilson Pickett song and earlier on I watched 'Beautiful Girls'. This stuff outlives the soulless stuff.

Art lasts. Business kills you. Don't get excited by the big lights, just do the work that you love.

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Finding Yourself As An Artist and Surpassing Blocks and Disturbances

Your agent is sitting on his ass. Your producer is strangling your creativity. Your co-writer is making negative remarks about your dialogue. 

Regardless of your success levels, everyone has these problems. The problem is that these issues come home with you, they eat away at your energy, they affect your life and creativity in a big way. Too often we forget about the dreaming behind our creativity and focus too much on the disturbances. 

Your dreams and aspirations are the guiding principle behind why you are an artist. It's important to get in touch with them as often as you can, because they really help keep you on the right path. 

We all have peak experiences -- when we are firing on all cylinders, and nothing can stop us. We feel happier, lighter, and our artistic selves are prospering. And there are other times when we're refusing to get out of bed, we tell everyone we're thinking of quitting, and we convince ourselves that we're talentless and that our work is embarrassing. 

Focus on your peak experiences. Can you remember a time when you felt fully alive and full of possibilities? FOCUS on that experience. Fully bring it alive in your memory. Stop reading for a second, and truly visualise it. 

Where were you? Who was there? How did you talk to people? Did it feel like there was a presence or a force supporting you? (Call it God, call it a good caffeine rush, whatever it was, for you). If you are able to strongly visualise this pleasing memory, it will make you feel good, you'll get some of those feelings back.

I have had many of these experiences. Many of them are from when I was a teenager and began making films. I was full of possibilities, extremely experimental, and everything made sense every time I wrote on a page, or pointed a camera at actors. 

Another time was in New York a few years ago. I felt super-powered. Like New York is my spiritual home and the world wanted me to be there. I would walk out of the apartment I was staying in and within five minutes I'd make a new friend, a new creative soulmate, it seemed to happen nearly every day. It was a magic time; the world seemed to work for me in every way. 
When was your peak experience? How did it make you feel? 

When you feel that you are fully in that experience, that you are not only remembering it but you are feeling some of its essence in you now --- how can you use that feeling in your work right now, today? Does that energy help you overcome some of the blocks and resistance you have been feeling? 

Let me know how it goes. 

What we have a tendency to do, is focus our energies on the roadblocks, whether they are external problems (i.e. investors, landlords, YouTube comments) or internal (lack of confidence, second-guessing, depression). This exercise is to help you get back some positive energy, by focusing on the dreaming processes that shape who you are as an artist, and what your goals and intentions are).

As a way of ending the exercise; it is good to write down a few words about yourself and your work, and the dreaming behind it. For example, I could write, "I have always strongly related to the work of writer/directors like Chaplin, Wilder, and Woody Allen, whose work as artists created meaning for themselves and the world around them. I believe that art lives forever and that my dream is to create work that will last, that will cheer people up and brighten their days for a long time to come."

Don't allow yourself to be critical or embarrassed about what you write, because it's a part of you and it's important to bring it out in you. An actress friend of mine yesterday was telling me about how she wants to work with disabled people to help give them a voice by using drama, another friend of mine was telling me a few days back about how books helped him understand the world when he was a kid, in a way that nothing else ever had -- and he wants to be an author so that he can bring that same feeling to future generations. 

Our dreams are important. When we fully access them, own them, and believe in them, we are able to step forward with more purpose and confidence. 

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Dust

The hardest thing of all, is writing what's really in your heart. It's usually that very thing that makes you bolt it towards your laptop, desperate to capture in a bottle the spark of yourself that you just figured out.

But when you get there, a little something dies every time, and it blurs into ideas of stories and characters and meanings and somehow, you just lose something.

But the films you love, that you REALLY love, the ones that you cried yourself to sleep over when someone left you or when you felt all alone or when your friend died; you know those movies? The reason they resonate with you was because someone thumped their heart down on a page, or into a scene; and you saw them, you truly saw THEM ---- and because of that, you saw you. You saw your heart and soul smashed down on a page and rolled out on a screen and dumped in front of you.

But getting to those heights with your own work is the toughest thing of all. Because you tell yourself it's always too cheesy, or too personal, or too emotional, or too esoteric, or too much of a blur inside your brain.

The things you know and feel the most, the things you are so DESPERATE to say; despite the fact you know them with such definiteness and clarity -- despite that, when it comes to it; it seems you hardly know them at all. The very core of you you are, when it comes to chucking it out onto the page, it becomes a blur, a something, a speck of dust in a room of old books. Writing and directing and acting, they're all looking for that one piece of truth, yet the distractions are abundant everywhere we look. We always find a way to obscure it, to over-complicate it, to miss it.

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Talent? No-one Cares

When you were young, you found out you had talent. Some people can put a sentence together better than others, some can sing a nice tune.

You think that's your ticket.

But talent isn't personal. Talent doesn't resonate.

But your personal story does. The tales and tumbles that make you a unique person.

A hundred years from now you're dead. There'll be others who can sing, others who can light a scene or hold a paintbrush.

But none of them have your fingerprints. Your handwriting is your own and when you look out of your window at night you see it in a way that only you can see.

Show us that. We want to know what you feel, and how it hurts you, and how it makes you scream with joy.

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The World Inside Of You

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Or maybe he's alive. Or maybe he was killed years ago.

And the Royal Wedding was a glorious triumph of love. Or maybe it was unearned privilege paid for by the people who struggle to put bread on the table. Or maybe it was irrelevant.

And President Obama is American. Or maybe he's a terrorist. Or maybe he's a dancer on Broadway and owned by Freemasons.

The job of the artist isn't to judge the different opinions, it's to get inside of them. To feel them, to understand where they come from.

Why do some English people want the Royal's out? Why do some Americans have a big problem with the color of Obama's skin? Why are people so quick to assume the Osama Bin Laden assassination was anything apart from what we were told?

Your answers to these questions aren't meant to be factual, but you're meant to be able to feel them. Feel the part of you that believes everything you're told and -- feel the part of you that mistrusts authority every single time. Dig into who you are until you find the part of you that is judgemental, or has prejudice. What's underneath that? Do you have fears? Painful experiences?

We are all so similar, yet so different. But we don't just want our art to appeal to people who look and feel like us. It needs to reach further. But we all have limits. Everyone is liberal, to a point. Everyone is loving, until they're fearful. Everyone is carefree, until they wake up in the morning.

Hitler was evil. Osama Bin Laden too. But most people aren't, they're doing the best they can. They believe they're doing right. It's easy to get caught up in the circus of calling the other side dumb, or ignorant; but it's more productive to explore it on a deeper level. Explore the ways in which you are dumb and ignorant, and help it make your work richer. 

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