In our mission to get a story on to paper, we are often starting from less than zero, because zero assumes your only obstacle is the blank page, with you possessing no qualms, an unwavering confidence in your writing acumen, and knowing exactly who your characters are and where they’re going.

If that’s you, teach me your secrets. Otherwise, we have to cross a chasm of self-doubt. I have spent many infuriating hours staring at the computer screen, willing greatness to emerge. Unfortunately, my computer is not haunted by the ghost of Philip K Dick or Robert Heinlein.

Here are a few ways to get you to the other side.

Beginning in media res (in the midst of the action) is an excellent way to stab the reader right away ... or is it grab the reader? No, stab sounds right. Anyway, this works for finished products but can trip us up on first drafts. We end up fretting and dithering because everything is important from word one.

Instead, back up a little. Or a lot. Write about a character’s morning routine. Their trip to the grocery store. Deliberately choose the most boring thing they were doing before the action starts; you now have the freedom to hack it off later without remorse. There’s also a chance of producing unexpected insights into a character’s personality: steamed milk latte or convenience store sludge? Daily life can be illuminating.

We all inevitably produce garbage along the way to eloquence. That’s the way the brain works—until we can replace our wetware with something better. Your goal should not be to avoid garbage, but to use it as compost. Accept it, wallow in it. Even go one step further: tell yourself, “Today, I will write the most cringe-worthy version of this scene I possibly can. I will aim for awful, create catastrophe!” Then you can’t be mad at yourself, because you did it on purpose. It was all part of the plan. So go ahead, write it bad—but write it.

This method involves writing in passes. For example, write out all the dialogue, nothing else. Next, internal reflection. Then setting description. Do this until the section is complete. The order you do it in isn’t important, the goal is to make the whole less intimidating by dividing and conquering (and you are very much a conqueror, having overcome the desire to return to your snicker doodles and binge watching). An added benefit is that layering will help you better judge if the ratio of content is working.

When I’m staring at a giant to-do list of chapters I have to write, bleary-eyed, overwhelmed, and not sure where to start, I hop through several chapters in a short amount of time. I’ll write somewhere between a paragraph and a page starting anywhere in the scene, then move on to the next. I find this to be a real present to my future self, who will be tackling a half-done chapter instead of a none-done one.

But in a good way. It’s much easier to make excuses to yourself than to others. Call on a friend—or anyone willing, really—and make them a promise. Promise them you’ll be finished with a chapter by the end of the week. Even better if they also promise you something; doesn’t have to be about writing. Maybe they need to complete a human diorama for … whatever project requires one of those. Up the anti by devising a punishment. For example, you have to take them out for dinner. You don’t want to disappoint Edwin the building handyman who dabbles in human dioramas, do you? No. So finish that chapter!

When my energy is at stagnant-pond levels, I go on to YouTube and find movie trailers that match my genre. These micro-bites of condensed action and storytelling pump me up and can kick-start my own mojo. Just be careful not to get lost in the infinity chain of YouTube links. Set a time limit of 10 minutes or so.

Be wary of that infection known as “perfection.” Avoid the urge to tinker until after you've finished. Instead, use top-down editing: story --> chapter --> scene --> line. It'll save you cargo loads of time. When you edit chapter by chapter, you are potentially spending hours fixing something which you'll have to tear out anyway. The first version never survives, no matter how much energy you pour into it. So don’t waste your finger sweat.

I hope these words get your own flowing. They’ve helped me. An encore of inspiration can be found here, to remind you that even the Great Writers had to struggle, just as you do:

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-storytelling-animal/201203/crappy-first-drafts-great-books?amp
 
Now, get to it.

Nathaniel Henderson is an author currently working on a cyberpunk-injected book series. For updates and exclusive content, sign up for his newsletter.

I went through several openings for this post, and couldn’t settle on any of them…

Fear of failure is one mean bastard. It’s not a weight you can simply chuck into the abyss and be done with. It’s got the tenacity of those creepy dolls from horror movies that keep coming back no matter how many times you burn them on a pile of angel hair.

Brilliant ideas never rust if you don’t get them wet.

Planning is awesome right up until it’s burying your corpse in the backyard under so many good intentions.

…And I noticed I was stalling by trying to come up with a poetic way to describe stalling. No more. I’m strapped into a giant slingshot; time to stop cranking it back and just—

... a side quest to my ultimate goal of becoming a master visual effects and 3D animation artist. Our assignment: write a 10 page screenplay treatment.

The PI is stumped. Weird events ensue. I vaguely recall a creepy little girl (because of course) in a stairwell and a portal to another dimension.

(I remember neither the author’s name nor the magazine it appeared in, but if this sparks a memory, please let me know in the comments.)

Enigmatic and disquieting, the story provided more than enough fodder to hash out those 10 pages. I received good feedback from the teacher, put more flesh on its bones and ... nothing. Life went on. For six months. That’s a long time when you’re 22.

But the story wouldn’t leave me alone. It watched me from the computer lab shadows. Followed me down Post Street and past Divas to my 2am gym sessions. Its presence was amplified by my growing awareness of all things Japanese, sparked by friends and the culture stew that is San Francisco.

I began with great passion ... and unrealistic expectations. As I clicked my way through thousands and thousands of frames, adjusting control arms, deformation, and timing, I came to realize, painfully, that my love of the end product did not extend to the process.

Animation, like all jobs, has its moments of slog. The surrounding bureaucracy also takes more than a few pounds of flesh. Movie/game release dates are nearly impossible to change, so deadlines must be met, whatever the cost to artists’ evening plans. Clients, even well-meaning ones, are sometimes not versed in how the technology works or what it’s capable of, so their requests can be vague to the point of abstraction. Budgets and plans change, casting aside hours of completed product. And on and on into the void.

But when it all works out, and a vision comes to life, the results are oh so beautiful. Worth all the sweat and tears and caffeine-induced shakes. Some of my former classmates have gone on to help bring major productions to life. While I envy them for that, I don’t regret going in a different direction.

I started writing the sequel to Happy Home in South Korea, titled Fluffy Bunny Kill Force, and finished it shortly after relocating to Tokyo. This book sees my heroines tackle the underbelly of the Japanese music industry and their pop idol assembly lines.

It took me 4 years to write the 2 books. As of now, maybe 50 people have read them. Not entirely the books’ fault. My “marketing strategy” consisted of my parents telling their friends, and me working it into conversations with cute girls: “Hey, I’m writer ... No, sorry, they’re not translated into Korean.”

The Quoddy Tides, a local newspaper in Maine, did review The Happy Home Death Machine, comparing it (very lightly) to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I still do a little dance over that coup. You can read it here. Pro tip: savor every victory, no matter how small it is, or how big you get.

But it was too late. By the time I’d had this epiphany, I’d already moved my mind to a new city, one of my own creation: the city-sphere of Naion.

In a way, it is Tokyo. It is Hong Kong, it is Istanbul and Brussels. Strained through a cybernetic fever dream. My playground, a character in its own right. A place which has seeded an entire series.

Come on in. Don’t mind the smell of burning ozone and street food, you’ll learn to love it. For your safety and enjoyment, keep your eyes open.