Author: Brian Koppelman

I'm co-creator/Executive producer of Showtime's Billions. Some of the films I've either written/produced/directed are Solitary Man, Rounders, Ocean's Thirteen, Knockaround Guys, Runaway Jury, The Girlfriend Experience & the 30/30 Documentary on Jimmy Connors. I'm also the host of the podcast The Moment. iTunes.com/TheMoment

Thanks for listening, six seconds at a time.

I started doing the Six Second Screenwriting Lesson Vines on a whim. There was no preplanning or strategy. I just had something to say, so I said it, directly, without any sort of thought to what kind of impact it might have, to who might see it, to what they might say about it. If I had thought about any of that, I might’ve made sure to blink or choose a more flattering light or wear a cool hat or something. 

On reflection, I know that what prompted it were a series of questions I had been getting on twitter whenever I did a q and a. These questions seemed to carry certain assumptions with them, assumptions that came from various screenwriting books, seminars, websites that these (mostly) young aspiring screenwriters were taking as bedrock foundational facts.  As a lifelong student of con artists, scammers and false prophets, it rankled me that there was so much misinformation being slung out there for profit.  Usually propagated by so called experts who had never written any actual movies. Or tv shows. Or anything. 

And it rankled the shit out of me.

So I opened Vine, pointed the iPhone at myself and said what I was feeling, which was: “All screenwriting books are bullshit. Read screenplays. Watch movies. Let them be your guide.” And then, before thinking about what I was doing, I saved it and tweeted it.

The reaction was pretty immediate. A few of my friends made fun of me. Which I expected. But a whole bunch of other people thanked me. Actors, writers, producers, journalists. By then, a few hours later, I had recorded and posted a few more, also mostly as a response to the received ‘wisdom’ that was out there in the screenwriting guru movement. And once again, I saw that there were writers, artists of all stripes really, who were waiting, not for me, but for someone to speak honestly, personally, about what they believed was actually important in the creative process. And what was bullshit. 

So I kept going. I made two rules for myself. 1) I would only say what I absolutely believed. What was absolutely true in my own experience and 2) I would do one a day for as long as it seemed that that I still had something to say and that there were people who still wanted to hear it. 

I’m up to number 86 now. And I have say, it’s been at least as beneficial for me as it has for anyone else. I have realized that the person I am mostly talking to is me, reminding myself, encouraging myself to press on each day, to commit each day to being honest on the page, to writing without fear, to writing despite the distractions, to writing when I don’t feel like it, to writing even when I’m certain that it’s all been a lucky accident that’s bound to end any second. 

As I’ve said before, I was a blocked writer until my 30th year. My goal ever since then has been to keep the dark voices, the inner critical voices, at bay for long enough each day to get something down on the page. 

One of the ways I do it is by talking to you. And myself. Six seconds at a time. Thanks for listening and responding and letting me know that it helps. 

Have a great Thanksgiving.  If you give yourself a day off from writing, do it without guilt. And if you decide to write despite the urging of family and friends, do that without guilt. 

And get up tomorrow and do it again.

That’s what I’m going to do. 

At least I hope so. 

the question of selfishness

Sometimes people around you can start acting strange when you tell them you are embarking on a creative project. They may express skepticism, they may say something like “you’ll quit, you always quit.”  They may be almost overly supportive at first but almost immediately start making little digs about all the time you are devoting, or how absent minded you sometimes seem.  And, of course, they can call you selfish. 

This one really stings. Because part of you may very well feel that way. 

But it’s not true. Yes. you are devoting yourself to something, going inside yourself, spending as much time as they say you away from them and living in your own little world.  Only it’s not selfish.  It’s the opposite. For a few reasons. And it’s worth it to remind yourself of this.  1) you are trying to create something that you will share with others. Whether it’s a song, a novel, a screenplay or a sculpture, you want to produce something that adds value to the world. This one, the one you are working on right now, may not the one.  But it just might. Artists need to remember that the world needs what they do, values what they do.  So it cannot be selfish to do it. 2) if you give in, give up, abandon it, you may end up being more physically available to those in your life. But the version of you they will now be dealing with will be, in some way, bitter, angry, resentful.  Maybe even a little self loathing. Because you will feel that you have abandoned the best of yourself, the highest hope for yourself. 3) Those around you will ultimately become inspired by you if you stay the course and really do it. And later, they will appreciate you and your work even more than you can imagine. Or they’re the wrong people to have in your life anyway. 

This doesn’t mean that being an artist excuses other selfish behavior. Artists do get carried away, do, from time to time, take advantage of their ‘special’ status.  

But it does mean protect your creative time. Guard it. 

And do your work. Without excuses. Because we need you to produce something great, transportive, elevating. To refuse…now that would be selfish. 

Write what fascinates you

This seems simple, right? Of course we should write about what fascinates us, what we obsess over. But so many people approach writing, and especially screenwriting, as if it can be gamed, figured out, strategized.

And if you’re someone who can do that, congratulations. Rock on. Although I wish you wouldn’t waste that kind of strategic brainpower on show business. There’re problems to be solved, out there in the real world. Go figure out how to arbitrage our energy resources in a way that motivates buyers and seller to create a more equitable market or something. I don’t know. Because I don’t think that way. But obviously you do.

As for the rest of us. We need to calculate less. And to look inside to find our subject matter. Or outside at the world we see, but through a prism of enthusiasm. Meaning: we must find subjects that are personally animating. Inspiring and engaging to us.

Once we do, we have a shot at making them inspiring and engaging for others as well.

Because when the story is important to you. When it fascinates you. That passion is tangible. The reader senses it. And, without even knowing why, gives you the benefit of the doubt. You still have to tell the story well, of course, and that still takes an enormous amount of effort and concentration. But: The huge collateral benefit of telling stories that genuinely fascinate you is this: forcing yourself to sit down and actually do the work is much, much easier than when you are merely writing something because you think it is marketable, can sell, is in a genre that’s currently in demand.

So. Calculate less. Write your obsessions. And have a better chance of A) really getting something written and B) making your screenplay into something that excites and engages the reader.

What can I do today to put myself in a peak state to create?

That’s the question I try to ask myself whenever I feel like I’m drifting, going along without intention. And then I make sure to do those things.

It’s a personal question. At different stages of my life, the answer would have been slightly different. But some elements always remain: 1) some form of exercise. These days that mostly means a long walk to wherever it is I am going to write that day.  On weekends, I jog, slowly, for between a half hour and an hour. 2) Meditation. Every day. Morning and afternoon for twenty minutes. 3) some form of journaling, usually morning pages, as described in Julia Cameron’s The Artist Way 4) the right music (today, and many days, that’s an album by The Hold Steady. 

When I incorporate these things into my day, I am able to ease the doubts, quiet the inner critic and get into the state of flow I need to be at my most creative. 

What do you do? Do you even know? Should you start to find out? 

Ask yourself: What can I do today to put myself in a peak state to create? And let me know the answer.