Seven Tips To Help You Write Anything

When I try to pinpoint how the hell I ended up writing a book, I always end up back at a corner pub in Iceland, drinking Nordically-priced tap beers and eating a bad hamburger. That’s where this all started – the book, I mean, my debut novel, Being Black n Chicken, & Chips. That’s where it all started. Not the idea, and certainly not the first sentence typed. But the commitment. The decision to follow through. I’d promised my agent I would send her six sample chapters by 31 August – and it was the evening of 30 August and I had not written six chapters.

I’d written successful TV shows, and award-winning stand-up shows. But never a book. And I was scared. Really scared.

My mind always comes back to that pub in Iceland because it was the day I’d jumped one of the first hurdles in any artistic process: the point of no return. Standing on the platform of the creative bungee jump, wondering whether this would be the one leap that makes the rope snap. Up until this moment I hadn’t sent my agent anything. Hadn’t put my pride on the line. I could back out. I could just send an email saying I actually wasn’t really interested in writing a book (I was), or that things had gotten too busy making another TV show (they hadn’t), and that would be that. No questions. No book, no nothing. Safety and happiness in my hidey hole.

But, I decided I was going to write a book. And I did. Here’s what I learned.

JUST DO IT

A writer friend of mine recently told me that she isn’t writing at the moment because of a ‘fear of failure’. Not writing is failure. When it comes to creativity, the only way to truly fail is to not create. You get a pass just for making anything, because most people don’t make anything at all. They just consume all your hard work and poop out their thoughts in the shape of Google stars.

When it comes to creativity, you get a pass just for making anything, because most people don’t make anything at all.

Ignore the voice in your head that constantly tells you to re-think what you’re doing. That it’s not right. That you suck. The voice that is unwavering in volume, and only drowned out by the choir of failures from efforts-gone-by, members of which all once listened to that voice and all it did was land them in creative purgatory, where ideas are conceived and abandoned before they ever see the world.

Stop worrying about failure, and just do it.

EQUATE YOUR WORK TO SOMETHING ELSE

Too many artists think it’s all or nothing, that this script/book/performance/Instagram caption will be the one that makes or breaks you. But not everything has to be a masterpiece – realistically, very few things are, and nor should they be. People consume entertainment like they consume food, and while it’d be amazing to visit Noma and eat squid tentacle ice cream rolled in ant butt chocolate crumble (not a real dish, but you catch my drift) once or twice, most days of the week people actually just want a sushi roll. Artists punish themselves for not creating the ten course degustation, when they’ve got perfectly good ingredients to make an amazing chicken salad sandwich on crusty vienna loaf just sitting in their minds.

Make the best meal you can make, and trust that it will suit someone’s appetite.

Artists punish themselves for not creating the ten course degustation, when they’ve got perfectly good ingredients to make an amazing chicken salad sandwich.

STOP CONSUMING, START PRODUCING

I know what it’s like. You’re stuck in the trap. The hole. That vortex where all you do is bounce around from Facebook, to Twitter, to Instagram. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. The tripod of self-loathing. The sin triangle. The kryptonite of creativity. Attempting to produce while you consume is as gross as eating on the toilet.

Disconnect from the internet and write from what you know. Check facts later. You’ll spend more than enough time on Instagram when it comes time for the promotional phase of your creative cycle.