Many of the TV writing students I teach are brand-new writers. They come to me with an idea they care about and the courage to figure out how to bring it to life. As they learn about writing TV, they also start to form a relationship with this craft. Like all relationships, there is a honeymoon phase.

In the beginning, it’s all new and exciting. Learning about story structure, creating characters, and developing the world of their show is like learning a magic spell. By the time they’ve written their first logline and story area, they’re smitten. Then we get to outlining, and they realize how complicated it is to set up an entire series in one episode. And I watch the giddy days of the honeymoon fade as they realize the cold and indisputable reality that screenwriting is work. Like, a lot of work.

Of course, writing can be fun. I’ve worked in comedy writer’s rooms for a good portion of my career and there’s nothing better than hanging out with a bunch of professionally hilarious people all day. But eventually, even that group finds themselves shame-eating snacks and staring dead-eyed at a monitor debating if the character would say “shouldn’t” or “should not”. The truth is writing is mostly problem-solving, with a heavy emphasis on the problem.

If I sound grumpy, I’m not alone. Swing a dead cat in a room full of writers and you’re bound to hit someone quoting Dorothy Parker’s old saw, “I hate writing, but I love having written.” Then keep swinging that cat and you’ll hit another writer taking thin joy in informing them that Dorothy Parker didn’t actually say that (as long as you still have the cat, hit that dude a few more times).

A big writing project like a TV pilot, a movie, a play, or a novel is daunting. It’s sprawling and messy and can take weeks, months, or even years to complete. It can’t be seriously approached as a single “task”. Instead, it must be broken up into smaller bits you have to chop your way through like a big pile of wood.

At the same time, you can’t approach it like drudgery. You’re writing this script so that the audience can check out of their lives for a while. In other words, you want them to be entertained, aka happy. And if you’re showing up to the page like a 19th-century Russian peasant, that’s probably going to come through.

So if writing is hard work but also needs to be joyous (or whatever), how do we square that circle? Well lucky for you, the only thing writers love more than bitching about writing, is offering unsolicited advice on how to make it suck less. So in that spirit, I’d like to suggest you create a writing ritual.

That's right, I said ritual - a word that doesn’t scream “fun”. It probably makes you think of church, exercise, or your friend who got into crystals during the pandemic. As well as a lot of other stuff you’d like to avoid. But bear with me. Because, like spending time with your family during the Holidays, the path to happiness starts with some serious boundaries.

Writers have been discussing their daily rituals forever. Here’s a great piece on that very subject. The TLDR is that creating a consistent ritual is one way to chop that wood with a smile on your face. Below are a few ideas to get you started based on my own experience and the experiences of other writers I’ve known or admired (or both).

Edges and Boundaries

When you’re working on a big, complex project it’s easy to get overwhelmed. That’s why adding some edges and boundaries to your work can be helpful. These boundaries can relate to time (how long you will work each session) or work goals (what you will accomplish during that session).

The first thing you’ll probably want to do is to figure out when you’re most productive. Are you a morning person or a night owl? Or is the middle of the day your jam? Whatever the case, you’ll need at least a couple of hours you can reliably block off for your project. Of course, you may have obligations that make this difficult. In that case, look at your schedule at the beginning of the week and try to identify openings that will work.

I like to research as I go. It’s part of the pleasure of writing for me. So I want plenty of time to fart around, filling my brain with information that may or may not help my work. So three or four-hour sessions work best for me. You may not have that much time. That’s okay. Even a dedicated hour can be incredibly productive.

The idea here is to be intentional about the time you can commit to your screenplay and to stick to your schedule.

Prepare Your Space

Some writers like working at a coffee shop or a corner booth, while others need a cave to hole up in while they scribble away like the Unabomber. E.B. White, the Author of Charlotte’s Web claimed to write in a corner of his living room, with his family walking in and out and interrupting whenever they chose. His logic: “A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.” That would drive me fully insane, but you do you. Whatever the case, you need to figure out what your preference is and then create that environment.

It’s all about what best sets you up for success. For E.B. White his family clomping around was the trigger for him to disappear into his work for a while. It will almost certainly be different for you. Do you like to write with music? Do you need a big cup of coffee? Do you write at a standing desk or reclining in a La-Z-Boy? The idea is to create a space and environment that tells your brain it’s time to work.

Prepare Your Brain

Now that you have time and space sorted, you need to consider what’s going on in the old thinkin’ meat. Prepping your brain to work is arguably the most important part of your writing ritual.

I’m a morning person. Like, a crack-of-dawn, sunrise-watching kind of morning person. I know, annoying. I like this part of the day for work because everyone in my house is usually still asleep and the time feels like my own. I feed my dogs and make myself breakfast. Then I make some coffee and head to my office. But before I jump into writing scenes and dialogue, I do one more thing. I journal.

For some of you, the idea of journaling may seem very “Jan Brady”. But over the years, I’ve found it an invaluable way to prepare. Most of the time I’m not journaling about anything important. I’m just… writing. I don’t erase or correct. I don’t worry about punctuation or spelling or if it makes sense. I’m just clearing out the gunk. Occasionally the work does creep in and I end up writing dialogue or a scene in my journal that I can use when I tuck into the script, but mostly I’m just warming up. It’s like stretching before a workout. I highly recommend it. But if that’s not your jam, find a way to get your brain loose and limber and add it to the ritual.

Learning To Stop

With your ritual arranged it’s time to get some work done. You need to have a goal for each session. For some, this is about pages, for others, it’s about a specific number of scenes. The most important thing is to make those goals attainable. This is where a little self-knowledge and honesty can come in handy.

If you’re a super-fast writer who vomits out pages, great, set your goals accordingly. But if you work turtle-style, maybe pick a goal of one or two pages. That might seem like much, but every page is a step toward your finished draft. In this game, biting off more than you can chew is a sure path to discouragement, which is why you also have to learn how to stop.

So often we’re taught to keep grinding away, even if we’re tired or out of ideas. Good, reliable people are willing to go the extra mile, and bad, lazy people quit when it gets hard. Well, forget all that. This is a ritual remember. The whole idea is to maximize productivity and fun and minimize the “I suck” of it all. Which is where stopping comes in.

When your three hours are up, great. Shut the laptop and walk away. If you finished your writing goal, amazing. If not, it will be there when you return. You want to feel good about the project and your progress. And you want to be able to go about the rest of your life without it nagging at the soft, delicious edges of your happiness. Yes, rituals are about commitment and discipline, but they are also about sanity, peace, and permission to live your life without guilt and worry. Or, at the very least, minimizing it.

Conclusion

Of course, life is unpredictable. Schedules change and kids get sick. And some days (or weeks) you just aren’t up to it. So be gentle with yourself. The last thing you want is your ritual dragging you down like a boat anchor. But being a screenwriter is hard. Between your agent not returning your calls, the industry going pear-shaped, the union on strike, and the manager at your day job busting your hump it can feel that you have very little control of your path.

Insecurity is the screenwriter’s disease. And creating a sane, intentional ritual where you can spend time creating something you care about is damn strong medicine. Be sure to take yours regularly.

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