We often refer to writing as a practice. And yes, I do believe that the more you do it, the better you get. It just kind of happens. Some people say it takes 10,000 hours to become a master at something, but I'm not sure I truly believe that. (Still, you should totally check out Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers if you want to read more about it) I once had a coach that said "Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice does." That made sense to me. (He also said "Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing", but that's another story.) I may not be an athlete anymore (I struggle just to get a good workout in more than once a week), but I do practice. I practice writing. But that, friends, is much like being an athlete, and I've developed some sports strategies that I believe help me along the way. Here they are.

1. Do it every day.
As with any muscle, your brain needs to get used to things. It's a giant muscle with lots of other things it has to do, so if you want to write, you have to train it. I started with a daily journal, writing a minimum of 750 words every day. In the beginning, that was a bit challenging (both to do it and get to the word count), but I eventually got there. I used a great website called 750words.com to help me, too. After a while, I was in the habit, so I decided to extend the number of words I wrote every day. First by a little, then a little more. Now I write upwards of 1500 to 2000 words every day. Then I decided to work on something serious every day (the journal was just thoughts, no big deal). I started with twenty-five minute sessions, with five minute breaks in between using a great app called Pomodoro or Clockwork Tomato that I downloaded onto my phone. I currently am working on developing the habit of writing seven days a week, for a minimum of two hours (25 minutes on, 5 minutes off). I'm working on extending the time to three hours, but my brain needs to toughen up. So do it every day. Write.

2. Set performance goals
Another thing I did was set goals for myself. Like right now, I'm working on a screenplay. I'm trying to write ten pages per day (which is admittedly a tough goal), which would allow me to finish the first draft before I go on vacation over Labor Day weekend. With the goal, I know where I am, where I'm going, and how I'm getting there. It helps. I also set longer term goals, such as writing a novel by the end of the year, or having two scripts by then, and things like that. They do have to be adjusted from time to time, but it really helps.

3. Track your progress
Just like athletes, we need to see improvement. So I've created a little chart that tracks what I've done. It's just a simple spreadsheet, but I put the date, the amount of time I spent writing, what I was working on, how many words I wrote, where I wrote, and any other notes for that day. Then I can see when I have dips or peaks and try to figure out what was or wasn't working on that day. I can also see the progress I make overall towards finishing whatever I'm working on. And, I can see overall improvement. Maybe in the beginning I was only writing 750 words, but now I'm writing 2000. Yes, that's an improvement, and I'll take that as a victory.

4. Test your concentration
One of the things about being an athlete that makes one great is the ability to deliver their best performance no matter the circumstances. They don't have breaks in concentration or 'bad days'. They get out there and always bring their 'A' game. As writers, I know that sometimes we are very fragile. We're susceptible to moods, weather, distractions, and all manner of monsters that aim to keep us from writing. So we have to battle that. Once you have a writing practice in place where it feels stable and secure, switch it up. If you usually write in your office, write at the kitchen table. Or the coffee shop. Or the sofa. Or wherever. Just change your surroundings. This helps prevent getting into a rut and developing the belief that you can only write under specific and particular circumstances. This is bullshit, my friends. You can write anywhere. Yes, anywhere. I have found that I am able to concentrate very well when I'm at the airport waiting on a flight. Sometimes I can even do it on the plane (that one needs work). Who knew? But since I can't go to the airport every day, I like to switch it up sometimes, and see where I write well, and where I don't. And work on getting better at the places where I don't. That way, literally NOTHING can stop me from writing. Because I can write anywhere.

5. Join a team
Writing is often a solitary and lonely activity. Sometimes encouraging ourselves just isn't enough. So go get some teammates! I joined a writing group a little over two years ago, and we meet weekly to read and discuss our work. It's wonderful. With a writing group, you get feedback on what your doing, and encouragement for where you're going. I've had some difficult times in this group, but in the end, we're all there to help each other and make each other the best writers we can be, and it's due to this group that I've grown into the writer I am. They've been there to applaud me and steer me out of ruts. And I even managed to make some great friends out of it to boot. Seriously, get on a team. They'll hold you accountable when you slack, and pat you on the back when you finish. Just like in sports.

6. Compete!
Very few of us writers ever really plan to never show anyone our work. Nor should you. You did it, now share it! Whatever you're working on, whether it's poetry, a novel, a screenplay, blog, or short story, should be shared with the public. Maybe that means writing contests. Go for it! Maybe it means finding an editor or agent and getting published. Maybe it just means sharing it online with a select group of like-minded fans. Whatever it is, get your work out into the world. It would be silly if Usain Bolt just stayed in Jamaica and ran down the street for fun, right? We want to see him in the Olympics, showing us how his training and amazing abilities have made him into the fastest man on the planet. We want to see Michael Phelps  reach for the wall, and we want to see that gymnast get that perfect score. Likewise, we want to see you and your work live in the world and get the attention and love it deserves. We want to see you on that podium!

As creative people, we often seek out people who can give us feedback on our work. We can't work in a vacuum, nor should we. We create for the world, not to shut everything in a dark room or a drawer or somewhere else where it won't ever be seen.

So that's what I did recently. I've been working on a script with a couple of collaborators for about four months, and now that it was finished and we'd read through it for what seemed like the millionth time, we were ready to share it with people that we trusted. We shared it with people we knew in the film industry, friends, roommates, and loved ones. You know, for feedback. What ended up really happening is that I experienced a series of highs and lows and mehs that ended up being more than feedback. It also ended up being a huge learning experience, and that you should always remember when looking for someone's opinions on your baby.

1. Know what you're looking for
What kind of feedback do you want? If you're looking for someone to tell you what a genius you are, give it to your mom. Give it to your significant other and let them fawn over it and reassure you that you are the best thing since sliced bread and your work will forever live on as a beacon of light and hope or brilliance for the rest of the world forevermore.

However, if you're looking for honest feedback, give it to other artists. They can be people who do what you do, or they can just be creative people. Whomever they are, make sure they are people you trust enough to a) tell you the truth and b) tell you in the most diplomatic way possible.

2. Don't Panic
One of the first things we all do when people start attacking our baby is to defend it. We don't want to hear that our baby talks funny, or has a deformity on its head, or is just plain dumb. We want to tell everyone that our baby has beautiful eyes and a lovely soul and that deformity is just part of its charm and makes it that much more endearing. Don't give in to that temptation. Just listen. (Listening is a whole other skill to work on in general, but for now, I'm going to assume you already know how to do that.) Listen to everything a person says about your work. Write it down. Record what they say. Make notes of your own. Take everything in and try to keep you ego quiet. Why? Because defending your work makes you sound…well…defensive. There's a good chance that what could be a productive discussion could devolve into an argument or worse. At best, the person who is trying to help you will simply give up and walk away, resolving to never give you feedback again. Just take it all in, listen, and let them give it to you until they're all out. Then thank them. Thank them for real.

3. Accept that you aren't perfect, and neither is anyone else
There's an old saying that opinions are like…well, you know, because it's an old saying. But yes, everyone has one, and everyone who gives you feedback will have many of them. Everyone comes to your work with a different background and will bring their own baggage with them, which will color their opinions. Remember that. And remember that some people are very good at giving feedback. Sometimes it's precise, and you know exactly what to do. Other times, it's more general, and you have to figure it out. Whatever kind of feedback you get, just keep in mind that not everyone is going to have the same opinion. That's okay. No one is perfect, including you and your work.

4. Use the rule of three
This is where getting multiple opinions from many different sources is key. Since not everyone has the same ones, keep an eye out for the ones that keep coming back. If the same note is given at least three times, you should take it very seriously. It means there is something that many people see, and you need to start seeing it too, and figure out how to fix it. Outside of that, take each piece of feedback on its own. You don't want to be throwing the baby out with the bathwater, so just take a second and consider each point on its own, rather than as a whole. It's less scary that way, and you can consider each point on its own.

5. Breathe
Once you get the feedback, you may start taking each thing and twisting your work to fit into what you think everyone else wants. Before you do that, take a step back. Reconsider your work with this new information, and don't do anything. Don't touch it. Not yet. After the recent feedback we got, I had to talk one of my writing partners down from killing a character on page one. I'll give the same advice to you. Before you go killing hot Brazilians, just breathe and let your emotions subside. When you regain your calm, take another look. Wait a little longer, then think (just think!) about making changes.

6. Sometimes potential goes unrecognized
Remember tip number three. It also means that people also don't know something amazing when they see it. Now, don't go assuming this is the case for you, but just remember. After crying to a friend about my bruised ego, the response was, "Don't take bad feedback too hard. Someone could read Citizen Kane, and then say "That Rosebud thing is stupid." The point is, sometimes potential doesn't look great at first. It's up to you to figure out what you think is worth keeping, and what you can let go of. Be honest with yourself, and move to number seven.

7. Kill your darlings
Be okay with letting things go. Yes, you poured yourself into your work and you love every bit of it. But not everything can be used. You have to let things go. Just take a deep breath, use your delete key, take it out, and move on. Just remember to save the earlier draft in case you change your mind later.

8. Remember: You asked.
You may come out of a feedback session feeling angry, frustrated, hurt, sad, defeated, enthused, inspired, ecstatic, pumped, or euphoric. Whether you ended up high or low, remember this: you asked. You wanted feedback, and someone took the time to give it to you. They were (hopefully) honest, and they want to help you. They don't have ulterior motives, they don't have it in for you, and they could have said no. If you get all emotional and crazy, they won't want to give you feedback anymore, or they won't be honest anymore. Either way, you're screwed. Their feedback comes from the heart, and you should be grateful that they are willing to help you. Thank them.

9. Keep going
No matter how things went, don't give up. Don't give up on this piece, or the next piece, or your goals of making many more pieces. Half of being successful is never giving up, especially when things get tough. If being creative were easy, everyone would do it. But they don't. You do. So keep doing it. Work on editing your work, then move on to the next things and the next and the next. And keep getting feedback. Trust me: it will make your work better, will help you give better feedback (because you'll have to return the favor), and will make you a better person.

Here's an interesting story. The other day I happened to mention to someone that I curate a cinema. Their response? "Where do I sign up?"

It made me laugh, and I had to resist the urge that I always seem to have where I give all sorts of reasons why it's not as cool as you think it is. But then I stopped myself for a moment of reflection.

It is cool. I get to watch movies. A lot of movies. Some are definitely better than others, but there are definitely a lot of them. Movies about everything you can imagine, in every language there is. In a strange way, movies have provided me an education I would never have gotten otherwise. I've learned a lot about a variety of historical events (particularly revolutions of Latin American and Spain), about a variety of cultures, and even about filmmaking. I see a variety of styles and strategies filmmakers use to tell their stories, and I even get to see careers of filmmakers and actors as they develop and grow. It's pretty fantastic.

But the truth is, the movie business is like the Mississippi: It runs far and wide, can be incredibly shallow, and always seems to be kind of muddy. What I do is just a teensy-weensy part of the industry. If it were on a pie chart of the whole business, it would be the half of a half sliver that annoying girl on a diet always asks for. There are so many components of the movie industry (many of them for accountants and lawyers, naturally), that it seems impossible to fathom how people find their way into it. I actually got in by accident. And truth be told, I only have the tip of my toe in the industry.

Sometimes I wonder what diving in would look like. What kid of jobs in the industry would be the coolest?

Well, of course I'd love to be a director. That would be pretty sweet, foisting my opinions on everyone. Being the boss (if only for a little while). I'd also love to be a screenwriter. Obviously, I enjoy writing. I also like to think I have a talent for it. Also, working on sets is pretty freaking cool. It's like a magician telling you the secret to all the tricks, then doing them right before your eyes, and it's still magical. Plus, there's some kind of collective agreement within crews to generally not be jerks to each other and help each other with whatever needs to be done. It's an atmosphere of teamwork that is often a missing in the world these days.

If you get into the more business-y side of things, I think it would be awesome to work in acquisitions or development. One of them is finding awesome movies and buying them for distribution, and the other is working with screenwriters and producers and so forth to help them make the best movie possible. In a way, they're very similar, since they both involve being able to recognize talent.

Don't get me wrong. I love what I do. I don't plan on making a leap to another tributary anytime soon. But really, can't we just dream about stuff sometimes? What would you do if you worked in the movie biz?

Today I participated in a fundraiser for a great non-profit in San Diego called San Diego Writers, Ink. It's peopled with writers who help other writers become better writers, and whenever I participate in something they put on, I'm not disappointed.

But somewhere, deep down, is a nagging little voice asking me why I'm working to raise money for another non-profit besides my own. But that voice really needs to pipe down. Why? Because I'm working to raise money for the non-profit I work for every day. Yes, EVERY day. In case you didn't know, Media Arts Center San Diego has been around for quite a while, spreading the gospel of digital media and storytelling since its inception. That gospel has grown to include camps for kids, documentary classes for teenagers, partner programs with California libraries, and workshops for adults. Everything from how to take pictures with your fancy new DSLR to how to build your own steadicam.

Oh, and we also show movies.

That's my job. I often get an odd reaction from people when they find out what I do. "You mean you get to watch movies? All the time?"

Yes, all the time. I'm lucky enough to have a job that includes something most people (including myself) enjoy. I get to watch movies, meet filmmakers, and sometimes visit film festivals. I'm not going to tell you that it's not as glamorous as it sounds, because you wouldn't believe me anyway, and that's like complaining that your Maserati doesn't purr at 20 mph like it does at 80. Small potatoes.

So yes, I do love what I do. I love watching movies. But I also feel like I'm participating in something that matters. Yes, the education programs that are provided by Media Arts Center are wonderful. There is a wonderful staff of people that attend to all the details and ensure that they are enriching for kids young and old. The video production programs are also wonderful. Media Arts has managed to help a plethora of organizations that don't have access to the digital media tools and knowledge that we have in order to help them send their message around the internet and back again. Because that's what we do: provide access.

So now we have this Digital Gym, where you can get training on all things digital, like the YMCA, but for your brain and creativity instead of your body. And we also have a movie theater, which is where I come in.


But how does that fit in? Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing enough, not contributing enough, or not do-gooding enough. And then I reflect.

I've been at the organization for six years, programming films for the San Diego Latino Film Festival, Que Viva! Cine Latino, Cinema en tu Idioma, and a number of other community screenings. We've partnered with the SD Asian Film Festival, the Jewish Film Festival, Horrible Imaginings Film Festival, and countless other community groups to get messages out and spur cross-cultural dialogue within the San Diego community. Now I program the Digital Gym Cinema, and I'm constantly asking myself, what is this film for?

It's simple, really. Film is for people. It's for ideas. It's for creativity and sharing. There is not one single filmmaker on the planet who makes a film to watch alone in their own living room. Films are made to be seen, by groups of people, to share something that filmmaker thinks is important. It's just up to me, as the curator of the Digital Gym Cinema, to try to figure out what the community most wants, or what the community most needs.

So if I may, I'd like to reflect on what's come along so far. A film about the danger of greed (The Brass Teapot). A film about a family dealing with the separation of living on both sides of the border (Aqui y Alla). A film about zero-emissions motorcycle racing (Charge). A film about French capitulation to the Nazis during WWII (La Rafle). A film about women in India as the country develops (The World Before Her). A film about the pollution of our land and oceans (Trashed). These aren't all of them, but they all have a story to tell that I think is worth telling. Some films were more well attended than others. I take no offense.

What I am always looking for is the movie that is simply a beautiful work of art. Something about it reaches down deep and pulls at you, whether it's the music, the visuals, the story, or a combination of all of those that keeps you in your seat for a couple of hours (or longer!) because you can't take your eyes and ears away from the screen. And sometimes I hear, "How is that helping people?"

I despise that kind of response. Movies are art. They contain art. They blend art. And I still believe in art for art's sake. Many years ago, I found myself in Paris at the Louvre. I went through the galleries and found myself in front of the Mona Lisa. I didn't stand there and wonder how that was helping people. I admired it, and the other works, as something that makes our lives a little less dull. An expression of something someone wanted to share.

Let me be clear: artists (and filmmakers) are not required to change the world. If Iron Man has taught us anything, it's that audiences don't expect movies to change the world. They expect something to be shared. A story, an idea, a thought. Some artists are activists, and I think that's great. Some are not, and that's great, too. But what all of them are doing is engaging. 

This is what I strive to program at the Digital Gym Cinema. So as we look forward, I'm excited about the variety of shares coming our way. A film about the coming-of-age of a teenager from the Dagreb tribe (The Lesser Blessed). A transgender story of impossible, unextinguishable love and romance (Laurence Anyways). A film about the complicated world of Somali pirates (Stolen Seas). A poetic journey from schoolbus to public transportation in Guatemala (La Camioneta). A film about two musicians who tragically died before their time, but not before their genius rooted (Greetings From Tim Buckley).

I sincerely hope to create engagement. What engages you?

Sometimes it seems like there's just too many causes in the world. And maybe there are. It seems like you can't turn around or wind your watch without someone new asking for your hard-earned cash for some worthy cause. And most of them are worthy. Sure, we need to help the environment. And starving people. And victims of domestic violence. And people with muscular dystrophy,  breast cancer, prostate cancer, Crohn's disease, colitis, HIV, and so on. They all need our help.

And today, it's writers that need your help. Our help. So here's the deal. There's this wonderful non-profit in San Diego called San Diego Writers Ink, who help writers through a series of workshops, critiques, and so on. It's a relatively small organization, with a tightly-knit and dedicated staff. Simply put, it feels like family when you walk through their door. They're soft spoken, yet passionate about all things literary, from limericks to memoirs. 

And now they need to raise some money. They're having a fun fundraiser (or a "fun"-raiser!) called Blazing Laptops. It happens on June 9, and what happens is that they open their doors on a Sunday and all of us writers come in for a sort of writing marathon and just write for nine hours straight. We write to work on what we write, and we write because people have pledged their confidence in our ability to do just that. Basically, it's like the walk-a-thons that many other charities have, except without the blisters and sweat (or at least blisters on different body parts).

And this is where you come in. I promised to raise at least $100 (although truthfully, I'd love to raise much more than that), and I've already gotten 40% of the way there. I just need a few more people to show their generosity to this writing organization to help me get to my goal. At the same time, I actually have writing to do! I can spend those nine hours writing more blog posts and trying to *finally* finish that novel I started in November, which needs about 30,000 more words in order to be done.

So here is the link to pledge. Or click on the picture to pledge. It could be for $5, or it could be for $50, or even $500. Either way, you should seriously consider making a pledge. Everybody wins. Writers Ink gets some funding, I get the chance to work on some writing, and you get to feel great about yourself for being so generous.

Not too long ago, I started talking about how I make certain choices when I program movies. It has to do with the actors, and it has to do with the photography.

And it has to do with the writing. Sometimes I watch movies and think that the writer is some sort of evil genius because they seem to be inside my head, writing exactly what I want to hear, even though I don't know I wanted to hear it. The first season of Dexter did that. Mad Men does that.

Then there's the other kind of movie. The kind that has half-formed characters reciting ridiculousness that has you rolling your eyes so often you think you might have seen your brain at one point. Transformers gave me lots of glances at my own grey matter. So did Avatar.

Most stuff lies right in the middle. The stuff at the ends is easier to spot. But the thing about writing is that it's not what is written that is genius. It's the stuff that isn't written. The stuff that characters say without talking: the subtext. Good subtext makes a move great. It can also be very difficult to write, because oftentimes, people write their own lines in those pregnant pauses, and that's not always that the original writer intended. But in a way, that's okay. If someone is willing to invest enough in a character to imagine what's going on in their head, then the writer has accomplished something.

And yet, it's not all about the writer. What's written isn't always what you see. As writing guru Robert McKee says, "Don't mistake words for writing..." (see video here) Actors take what writers write, then make it real. Good actors make it better than it was before. So in the end, what you see on the screen is really just the essence of what was written.

Lastly, writing screenplays is now turning a corner that doesn't really bode well for some. As with most industries, the powers that be are always looking for 'the sure thing' (no one told them that doesn't really exist). In order to find that sure thing, many in Hollywood have turned to fancy analysts, who comb through scripts (at a mighty hefty price, I might add) and suggest changes to the story that will make it more marketable, popular, or whatever it is that makes it the most money possible.

So, you can listen to the analysts, but there are also numerous gurus and experts that have about a bazillion tips and tricks for writing the best script possible. I'm guessing that the real thing is having a great idea, but being able to express it and tell a great story definitely has to happen. Here's guru John Truby with lots to say.

What is the best writing you remember in a movie? How about the worst?