Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Writing is Dead

Saturday, April 12th, 2008

Alright. I’m about to state the blatantly obvious. Are you ready? Here we go….text-messaging is the death knell of good writing. I’m sure of it. I can honestly say that I have only ever sent one text message in my life and it was on my friend’s phone to another friend as a joke because I don’t own a cell phone nor do I trust them at all. It took me fifteen minutes to write the brief message (and I used punctuation and proper grammar so I wouldn’t hate myself later). It made my friends laugh and shake their heads and it confirmed that I do indeed hate texting on every level. Do you know that they now have copies of such classics and Hamlet and Pride and Prejudice written entirely in “text-ese”? 2B R Not 2B…what the f*&*^?

As a high school teacher every day I have to battle against text-obsessed students trying to get them to learn something other than how to text one another faster. I swear it is like a drug to them. They physically cannot put their phones away. The glazed look in their eyes as they take their vibrating phones out behind their books to “touch base” with whoever is one of the most frightening experiences I have ever had. I’ve never seen such emptiness. I’ve read about it in such novels as Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and I cringe to think that maybe, somewhere out there in the texting world Bradbury’s cautionary tale is broken down and destroyed in “text-ese.” These are the thoughts that keep me up at night and keep me working such great literature into the school curriculum in hopes of counteracting what can only be called an “assault on grammar and thought”. I cannot tell you how many formal essays I have received where “because” has been shortened to “cuz” and any form of the word “to” is written as “2”. I is no longer capitalized either. It is as if hitting the shift key while typing “I” takes up too much precious time. People, if you can’t hold a thought in your head for the milliseconds it takes to hit the damn shift key, it is time to take the long walk. Pt yrself out of my msry…pls…i cnt hlp u.

Do such sentiments make me a grammar snob? Excellent question. The answer is…probably, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. As an English teacher these things bother me. Grading essays written in such a way causes me great concern. All of a sudden the society in Orwell’s 1984 is closer at hand. Big Brother is watching and we don’t even care because our phone is vibrating and we just have to see if Jamie luvs Bret 4-ever. Wake up my little Proles and put down the damn cell phone…B4 it is 2 L8.

The 21 Steps - Telling stories in Google Maps

Thursday, April 3rd, 2008

Saw an amazing little write-up on Cool Hunting about a story that is told online using Google Maps as part of the medium:

“The 21 Steps” is a fast-paced, finely-tuned thriller that uses Google Maps to take the reader through the story’s events. Written by British purveyor of spy thrillers, Charles Cumming, the story is told through Google’s information bubbles with brief statements and images that take the reader from the streets of London to Edinburgh, Scotland with plenty of action and mini-cliffhangers along the way.

I’ve tried my hand at stage work, screenplays/movie, and straight prose. Each has their own advantages and limitations, but it still comes down to telling a story. If you are not making something engaging for your target (viewer, reader, or listener), then you’re going to fail. The tools you use to relate the story are very important, but secondary.

I try different styles to help me improve as a storyteller. My novel writing has helped my screenplays, and vice versa. I have no idea yet how this will fare as a medium, but I’m excited to see someone trying something new and look forward to playing with it and see what I can learn.

Sayonora Suckers!

Tuesday, April 1st, 2008

This will be my last post on this blog. I could not be any happier than I am at this moment. This weekend brought news that was fervently hoped for and joyously recieved. I have received a full grant from the prestigious Stiershiessen Fellowship for Brilliance in Writing.

That’s right, chumps! The full ride! A two hundred thousand dollar award and free accomadations at the Fellowship retreat on Molokai. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried for the Stiershiessen grant but my entry this year, Le Jongleur du Printemps, finally garnered me the accollades I deserve. I think you’ll all agree.

Of course I’ll have to comply with all the Stiershiessen Fellowships requirements. Fortunately, I already wear a mustache so growing it to handlebar length shouldn’t be a problem. Besides, mustache wax is provided in addition to my monthly stipend of 401.08

So, I made it because my awesomeness is frighteningly boundless. I will no longer have time for you puling, talentless hacks. Farewell, losers.

I have a fever for the Frenzy!

Monday, March 31st, 2008

My first quarter goal of finishing the novel I started during NaNoWriMo in November was pretty much blown to hell and back. That will have to be back-burnered for now since it’s Script Frenzy time! While I liked it a whole lot better when it took place in June, I had such a blast kicking out my sci-fi/horror mashup last year that I just have to do it again. This time around I will be tossing together the follow-up which is actually the second part of an eventual trilogy. I took a long walk today and worked out a few big story points, so I am about as ready to go as I was last time around.

This go around I will be focusing on striking the proper balance between the narrative action elements and the dialogue as well as propelling the story forward with each scene.

Got the sound, got the fury, but am I signifying anything?

Sunday, March 30th, 2008

Like a lot of writers, the ideas are the things that get me excited. I get partway through a project and one, two, or ten new ideas pop into my nogging begging for attention. The crazier and more cosmically weird, the better.

This creates two frequent problems for me. The first is that I struggle against rewriting, because I want to move on to the Next New Idea. The second is that I get wrapped up in my idea and wander around in a landscape of pretty colors but little substance. I’ll save the first problem for another post, and talk about how I try to keep myself grounded through a story.

Don’t get lost in the backdrop
Your story rides on the backs of your characters, and the rest is window dressing. Science-fiction is misunderstood by a lot of people who seem to mistake it for an end unto itself. If you look at truly good Sci-Fi (Firefly, new Battlestar Galactica, original Star Wars) you see that the future is secondary to the tales being told. The original Star Trek was pitched at a “wagon train to the stars” to sell it to executives, because the producers knew the backdrop didn’t matter. Kirk would be Kirk in any time period.

Turn your characters loose
I’ve become a huge fan of Y: The Last Man. It’s a 60 comic series with the incredible premise of every male mammal on the planet has died except for one young man and his monkey. It’s a wild idea that could easily run in a billion different directions, but the author keeps it tight by focusing on the characters. They are far more than 2-D caricatures, with clear perspectives and goals. They keep the story grounded.

Don’t tell everything
In Y: The Last Man, you often get glimpses of other stories going on. Some come from incidental characters the protagonist and friends run into, and others are just glimpsed in the background. The author gives a taste to remind you there is a whole world at work, but rarely does he go off on a tangent. There are still a ton of other tales to tell in this incredible world, but we’re not here to read about those right now.

This is a tough area for me, but one I love to explore. Hopefully I will develop enough skill to be able to harness my ideas into something valuable on a regular, or even occasional, basis!

Deadline sounds so final

Thursday, March 27th, 2008

Yup. I’m not going to make it. My self-imposed deadline to finish the novel I’m working on is March 31. It is now March 27. It just ain’t gonna happen, boys and girls. I don’t know how many words I have to go to finish the story. If I try to extrapolate from what I’ve done so far I’d guess 30,000 to 40,000. I don’t think I can get that in the four days I have left.

Does that bother me? No. Or more accurately it does bother me but I’m going to ignore the part of me that is bothered. If I listen to that part I’ll just get discouraged and disheartened.

Forget about it guy! Just keep writing! It’s not like I haven’t been working, it’s just been an issue of output. So no reason to go gnashing your teeth and all that. You’re already crazy to think you can write a whole freakin book; so why stop now? Let this be the spur in your flank to keep going. That’s the part I listen to. Besides, I’ll get that book finished by the end of April. I’m utterly certain.

It Is Finished(?)

Friday, March 21st, 2008

When is a story-or any creative endeavor, for that matter-truly “finished”? When can you say that there is nothing else you can do that could possibly make a piece any better? This is a question I’ve often pondered, but most recently, it was a question that came to mind after I realized I had spent nearly two hours rewriting a half-dozen lines of dialogue. In the end, they didn’t look all that different than they had when I finished composing the very first draft of the story, although the lines had been reworked countless times as I tried to strike the perfect balance between advancing the narrative and revealing subtle details about the characters themselves.

I remember reading an interview with John Irving once where he commented that he had only written a handful of short stories he truly considered “finished.” I can relate. There have been plenty of times when I have put a story aside for months or even years, and when I pick it up to reread it, I feel the urge to tweak a sentence here or a paragraph there. And these were stories that I thought were “done.” Maybe I’m OCD!

This is also one of the reasons I both love and hate writing. I’m the type of person who can usually bang out the first draft of something pretty quickly, and when I do, I get the proverbial “high” that goes along with most creative endeavors. Yet editing and rewriting-although I know they are essential to creating quality material-are the most arduous elements of this process. At times I almost dread starting a piece (even when I’m truly excited about the idea) because I know that at some point, I’m going to be spending countless hours removing and then re-inserting commas, changing bits of dialogue, reworking descriptions, and all the other things that go into the revision process. I think is was Flannery O’Connor who said that she knew a story was finished when, after looking at it for the umpteenth time, she said to herself, “Oh, to hell with it!” I know precisely how she feels.

The Importance of Being Earnest or: How to Fake Your Way Into a Writer’s Group

Saturday, March 15th, 2008

Joining a writer’s group was my wife’s idea. I hadn’t really written anything since my first (and last) year of college and I was terrified of even the notion. She wanted me to meet with strangers (actually I knew a couple of the people invoved)? She wanted me to write. I’m not a writer! If I ever was I’m not anymore! What if I suck? In fact I’m sure I do suck! Well, she wanted a creative outlet and she wanted to broaden her social circle and she wouldn’t go without me.

So I went to the first meeting of this newly formed group only to find that it had been formed once already and disbanded. Not exactly encouraging. Two of these guys were former improv actors used to writing sketch comedy and they had already written a screenplay for a short film. Alright, some people might find that a little intimidating. But they weren’t asking for much at the beginning. Just a page. One measly page. I made the comittment and, since I take my comittments seriously, I wrote the page.

It wasn’t easy. I wrote it on my computer and I stared at that cursor for awhile before I worked up the huevos to actually start typing. But I ground it out and it and took it to the next meeting. I sat there pretending that watching people read your work right in front of you was the most natural thing in the world. I took their notes and comments and tried not to stutter when I spoke. It’s been about three years and I’ve built on that one page to include some short stories a screenplay and (most of) a novel. And I rediscovered my love of writing. It’s safe to say that without the group none of this would have come to pass.

So is a group right for you? Well, probably not. There are a lot of pitfalls and if you read what working writers have to say about such things it sounds like a downright impediment to your writing. The fact is I got lucky. But I think what makes our little cadre work can be a guideline for forming your own or deciding if joining one is going to work.

1. Meeting time: I’m not a working writer. I have a day job and as much as I love writing, I have other stuff to do. If the meeting time doesn’t work for you, the group won’t. Might as well start with the easiest one to figure out.

2. Meeting frequency: Once a week is too much. Once every two weeks is just about right. That can stretch out to three weeks once in awhile but after that you’re just going to blow off the work, the meeting, or both. Some flexibility for bah mitzvahs and Burning Man is nice too.

3. The black beret factor: Are these people a bunch of pretentious jack-knobs? Are you? It’s okay, some people are, but they’re not going to have anything helpful. If somebody talks about how great or important their stuff is-they’re probably a pretentious jack-knob. Even if their stuff is great and important it’s bad form to say so yourself. Trick other people into saying it for you.

4. The nuts-and-bolts factor: This is the opposite of pretentious jack-knobs. Most of what you’re discussing will be pretty nuts and bolts. Right down to grammar, diction, and spelling. Everyone should be able to helpfully and articulately express their opinion. We need specifics. What exactly made the tone too dark? How precisely does Trevor’s dialog not match his character’s actions? What specifically gave away the fact that I just ripped off The Road Warrior? You need to be able to do this with other people’s work and your own.

5. Honesty: Not everything you write will be Cormac McCarthy. Let’s be honest-probably nothing you, or I, write will be Cormac McCarthy. Be honest with the others and with yourself. If you write something crappy, bring it anyway and discuss its ungodly crappiness. You might learn alot. At least you’ll have some yuks.

6. Accountability: Sure, one of the main reasons to join a group is so you don’t feel so damned alone. Other people besides you have delusions of grandeur! They’re sitting right there slurping an iced mocha! Yay! But the other reason is to give yourself some sort of goal with a deadline. The consequences might only be the merciless ridicule of iced mocha man but it’s something.

7. Room for different styles and abilities: Here’s some of that spicy variety. In our group we make an effort to come up with projects or exercises that we can focus on together but we always leave room. Sometimes we have novels, short stories, magazine articles, newspaper articles, and screenplays happening pretty much at the same time. It keeps things interesting and gives everbody a chance to stretch their literary legs a little. This can become cumbersome when a bunch of people are doing a bunch of work. That’s where something like google groups comes in. Everyone can post their work before the actual meeting. I know it feels like homework to have to read a bunch of stuff and take notes for tomorrow. Suck it up. You’re growing as a writer and as a person.

Those are pretty basic although if you think there’s something else important, please comment. I think a good group can offer invaluable help. Instant feedback alone is to be appreciated. You are there to get something and you are there to give something. But it is a group (as in more than one) so a little teamwork goes a long way.

The Art of Imitation

Wednesday, March 12th, 2008

Here is an excerpt from an article I wrote for the July, 2007 issue of the English Journal.

The Art of Imitation

The first year of teaching is always a challenge. This is especially true if-as is often the case with brand-new teachers-you are asked to teach a subject with which you have little or no experience. Like many prospective educators, I left college with my English degree in hand, eager to make a difference. I enthusiastically accepted a position teaching ninth- and tenth-grade English in a growing suburban school district. There was just one catch; to get the job, I had to teach two sections of photography as well. Fortunately, a good friend of mine has a photography degree, and he walked me through the essential skills I needed to know to survive in the classroom. I taught those photography classes for three years, but as an English teacher with a heart for writing and literature, the most important lesson I gained from the experience was a familiarity with an instructional technique that is often used in art classes: learning through imitation.

In my photography classes, I figured out right away that the least-productive strategy for teaching photo composition is simply telling the students to go take pictures of anything they want-with the results being scores of cheesy, yearbook-style snapshots featuring friends who are all standing neatly in a row. However, if we spent time studying famous photographs by respected photographers and then had the students imitate the same styles and techniques, the results were infinitely better. For example, we would look at close-up photos by Edward Weston and talk about his careful use of shadow and texture to help the viewer see ordinary objects, such as seashells or peppers, in totally new ways. I would then have the students select an object of their choice and, using the same techniques as Weston, come up with their own versions of his photos. The resulting images were original and creative, even though they were directly imitating another artist’s work. In fact, the more restrictions I placed on the compositional elements within a given photo project, the more creative the students became.

I have discovered that the same principles apply to writing. One way to guarantee poor writing-especially among low-performing students-is to give an open-ended assignment with little structure, such as, “Write a short story about something that interests you.” If a teacher makes the mistake of assigning a topic such as this, which I did my first year, he or she spends countless hours reading bad romance and horror tales that have no point and often include gimmicky, predictable endings. Yet, if a teacher lays out specific criteria and sets limitations on what may or may not be included in a given narrative, the stories are much more effective and creative.

The Value of Imitation

Although I stumbled on this approach to writing instruction by accident, others have been promoting the value of imitation for centuries. The ancient Romans taught writing through a seven-step process of imitation, believing that this method provided students with the tools necessary to develop their independent compositional style. Central to the Roman approach was the belief that “free composition must be based on knowledge of the options available to the writer-and this knowledge comes only from imitation” (Murphy 53). In the Roman system, students began by listening to, analyzing, and memorizing texts. Once this was accomplished, they progressed to developing paraphrases, transliterations, and recitations of those paraphrases. The final step was learning to self-correct their paraphrases and transliterations (Murphy 46-52). Students began with easy-to-understand fables and tales, and as they grew older and their skills grew more sophisticated, they tackled increasingly complex material. The purpose of this was to provide students with quality linguistic models whereby they could express their ideas clearly and precisely, because Roman teachers felt that the “writer who knows only one mode of writing is not free, but is bound by one mode” (Murphy 53).

Most quality teachers probably employ some form of imitation in their instructional regimen. For instance, Strunk and White’s classic handbook The Elements of Style incorporates samples of good and bad writing to illustrate points of grammar and composition, and teachers who use student-produced writing to model the features of various assignments are adapting similar strategies. When teaching poetic structure, many poetry teachers utilize scaffolding, which is an imitative approach involving the use of specific lines from a well-known poem to serve as the initial framework for a student’s original verse. Eventually, the key lines are replaced by the student’s words, thus resulting in a brand-new poem that began as an imitation of someone else’s work. These approaches to writing instruction are certainly not new, and as Paul Butler states, the “idea behind imitation, then, is not that we merely read something that someone else has written, but that we read it and appropriate it in ways that become ‘original’ in the process of producing it ourselves. That is one way that imitation can be considered a creative act. It is not merely copying or reproducing the work of another, but transforming it in some important respects” (Butler).

Imitation and Narrative

At our high school in Arizona, the twelfth-grade English curriculum focuses on British and world literature. While many of the writing assignments associated with this material are analytical in nature, there are several works that lend themselves to narrative writing opportunities, such as Dante’s Inferno and Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales. Over the course of these units, we analyze the characters, plots, styles, and stylistic techniques. The students are then given a chance to develop narratives using the same types of devices these authors employ. The criteria for these assignments are specific, although they afford plenty of flexibility in terms of substance and style.

For the Inferno writing project, students create an original narrative in which they describe the identities and punishments of those people they believe Dante would condemn to Hell if he were writing his poem today. The narrative is written in a style similar to that of Dante’s Inferno, and as such, it contains the following:

  1. A first-person narrator
  2. Human characters (those individuals whom Dante would place in Hell)
  3. A guide who is leading the narrator through Hell and explaining what he or she is witnessing
  4. Setting (one of the existing Circles in Dante’s geography of Hell or a level of the students’ creation)
  5. A depiction of the types of punishments the condemned souls will receive eternally
  6. The narrator’s reaction to the scene

The length of the assignment is limited to no more than 350 words, and students must include each of the requisite elements within their narrative. I sometimes give students the option of writing their narrative in verse form rather than prose, and for an extra challenge, they must utilize Dante’s terza rima rhyme scheme (aba, bcb, cdc, ded) for at least five tercets.

I have discovered that with specific criteria such as this in place, the students move beyond the “I don’t know what to write about” phase of the drafting process quickly, and they seem to genuinely enjoy coming up with creative ways of telling their stories. The guides for their journeys have included a host of diverse characters such as Dennis Rodman, Madonna, 2 Pac, Britney Spears, The Rock, Brad Pitt, Woody Allen, Paris Hilton, Angelina Jolie, and others. The victims in their Infernos often include well-known terrorists, serial killers, corporate criminals, media icons, pop stars, ex-boyfriends, and even a few teachers (including me!). The punishments that students create for their condemned victims range from amusing situations, such as winter visitors or “snowbirds” (a common sight in Arizona each winter) being forced to drive the posted speed limit and pay full price for their buffet meals, all the way to the ghastly torturing of some of the worst criminals in history. Most students write their narratives in a good-natured spirit of satire. However, teachers would be free to set whatever limitations they feel are appropriate given their student populations and community expectations. The following is an example of one student’s modern-day Inferno rendered in verse form.

Andrea’s Inferno

I awoke to a powerful and abrupt shake.

I was led into the tenth circle of Hell.

I looked up and read a sign that made me quake.

Where the excursion would lead me, I could not tell.

The sign read “The Circle of the Ignorant Who Annoy All.”

I knew that after the journey, I would not feel well.

Madonna and I walked past Satan who began to call,

“Help me! Ignorant people buried me up to my shoulders!

Get me out of this place! I do not deserve this at all.”

We ventured into a room full of students who

Had to pass their tests and study hard.

If they did not pass, they were forced through

A library filled with books, and they had to use note cards

To write reports on deceased presidents,

Which was the worst punishment for those lards.

For the Canterbury Tales writing project, students are again given specific criteria in terms of length, style, and focus. As with the Inferno project, these limitations seem to provide creative freedom to the students. In this assignment, students are asked to compose an original tale in the style of Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales that meets the following criteria:

  1. It must be a story that provides the “fullest measure / Of good morality and general pleasure” (”Prologue,” lines 817-18).
  2. It must contain interesting characters-either human or nonhuman.
  3. It should provide a well-established setting and an entertaining plot.
  4. It should include some sort of implied moral instruction.
  5. It should also reflect the personality of one of the characters from the story (such as the “Pardoner’s Tale” warning against the dangers of greed or the “Wife of Bath’s Tale” discussing the nature of women and marriage).
  6. The final narrative should be no more than two pages in length (250-400 words).

Honors students are asked to write their narrative in verse form rather than prose, and they must employ a series of rhymed couplets as Chaucer does. The limitation on the assignment’s length forces the students to be concise, which is a challenge for some, but the availability of numerous voices for their narrator gives them the direction they need as they think about each character’s personality and the stories he or she would likely tell. With this assignment and the Inferno project, students are given sample stories written by former students to help clarify the expectations for the narrative. The following is a student’s example of an original Canterbury Tale.

Friar’s Tale

Once long ago in a town filled with trees

Was a strong young man who aimed to please

The ladies around him and the maidens, too.

He always knew what to say and to do.

His wife-well, he had more than a few-

They neither minded nor cared that he wasn’t true.

Among these ladies was one of pleasure

Whom this young man learned to treasure.

It began one day when he was out alone

With one of his many ladies, reading a poem.

His eyes were wandering away from this wife

For this wasn’t the woman to share his life.

What she didn’t know about this man,

That more than once he did give his hand.

Her lover was too scared to speak it true

That she wasn’t the only to hear, “I love you!”

For fear of losing her, he went on a journey.

Then he regretted his decisions and was slowly learning

That, “Love for one is more than love for all!”

He proudly spoke and stood up tall.

But on his way to the last of his own,

The young maiden came prancing out of her home.

When her eyes opened to see a kiss

Given to another through true love’s bliss,

She stormed off in a huff and around him she passed

And realized their love would never last.

It did not take long before he withered and died,

And none of his wives sorrowed or cried.

And on his tombstone it was engraved,

“How I wish the young maiden would have stayed!”

-Tiffany

Given the nature of these assignments, I have found it beneficial to set specific content limitations on my students’ narratives. For the Inferno project, I do not allow students to depict violent tortures of anyone currently alive, and sexually oriented material is strictly forbidden. Likewise, the students’ Canterbury Tales must be appropriate for a high school audience-thus eliminating any bawdy imitations of “The Miller’s Tale” or other stories of that sort. I routinely have my students submit the first drafts of their writing to me for review, and they understand that I have “veto power” over any content I believe is inappropriate. Of course, these guidelines are flexible and could be modified for other educational environments and age groups.

With so much pressure on English teachers to develop students’ skills in academic writing, there are often few opportunities to venture into more-creative narrative forms. When these opportunities arise, it is in the best interest of teachers and students to get the most from the experiences. Imitation strategies have proven effective in my classroom precisely because they allow writers to focus on specific compositional skills, such as structure and word choice. When students are later expected to juggle additional elements of writing, these skills carry over into new situations, which ultimately aids them in developing their overall craft as writers because they have had opportunities to experiment with a variety of styles.

Art teachers have been using imitation as a means of teaching creative techniques to their students for centuries, and the same principles that make it effective in those disciplines apply equally well to the realms of language and writing. If asked, many successful writers will freely admit that much of their early work was characterized by an attempt to mimic other writers whom they admired, and it took this period of imitation for them to develop the skills necessary for them to find their literary voice. We would be wise to follow their example, because as master artists and teachers have demonstrated time and again, imitation is indeed a powerful key to unlocking a student’s creative potential. Or as Alexander Pope notes in An Essay on Criticism, “True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, / As those move easiest who have learned to dance” (lines 362-63).

Works Cited

Butler, Paul. “Imitation as Freedom: (Re)Forming Student Writing.” Spring 2002. National Writing Project. 5 Jul. 2006 <http://www.writingproject.org/cs/nwpp/print/nwpr/361>.

Murphy, James. A Short History of Writing Instruction: From Ancient Greece to Modern America. Mahwah: LEA, 2001.

Pope, Alexander. “An Essay on Criticism.” The Norton Anthology of English Literature.

Vol. 1. New York: Norton, 1986.

Who am I and what have I done with myself?

Monday, March 10th, 2008

More precisely: Am I a writer or do I merely enjoy the trappings of the writer?

And with this set of questions I began a bit of introspection.

Though I do not derive my daily sustenance from the commission of writing, I have, on occasion, completed works of professional length. These completions have, at least to date, always been followed by periods of languor, whereupon I quickly lose the oh-so-crucial momentum that was achieved and experienced.

Writing consistency has been my greatest bane, for which I have yet to find my own personal balm. Carrot or stick? All I know is that I am the distracted donkey in the middle of the conundrum.

As one of my esteemed co-bloggers here has stated, it starts by carving out the necessary time per day. Could it really be that simple? When I look back at the time periods of my greatest productivity, I see exactly that. A commitment to consistency. A refusal to be distracted from the goal. The application of time to the craft.