Why We Write: Take One

When we began this series last week, I talked about Didion’s idea of the “sentimental narrative” — a concept that suggests we arrange everything in our lives into a kind of order that makes sense to us so that we can continue living, even when things go topsy-turvy on us. A Twitter user alerted me to a major addition to the sentimental narrative of this series almost as soon as I posted the introductory essay: Charlie Craig and Thania St. John had called upon their fellow Guild members and other writers to answer the question of “Why We Write” during the writer’s strike of 2007–2008.

I legitimately had no idea that WGA writers had explored similar territory during another very turbulent, challenging time — the writer’s strike — and discovered some incredible stories from folks detailing why they write. All of the collected essays from the first Why We Write project are thankfully still available for your reading pleasure. I’ve reprinted some of the most powerful excerpts below.

Skye Dent

Writing got me my first script assignment. When writer friends found out that I had written a letter about myself asking Jeri Taylor for a chance to pitch at STAR TREK: VOYAGER they laughed and said “No one writes letters in this town.” Jeri Taylor invited me in to pitch and the first thing she said was “No one writes letters in this town.” Then, she hired me.

That’s when I found out, writers for TV and Film may not all be damn fine humanistic or even human human beings. But, they are witty, intelligent, fun, charmingly caustic, passionate, intriguing, sometimes senseless and sometimes nonsensical beings. (Don’t believe me. Meet Carleton Eastlake. He’s all of that rolled into one.)

In short, they are some of the most knowledgeable people I know.

Maria Elena Rodriguez

For the next ten years I continued to write while working at various cartoon and computer animation studios. I was always a member of a writers’ group and even won scholarships to the AFI TV Writers Workshop. I always had a spec screenplay that needed a polish, or a half-finished novel or a play waiting for its second act. My 12 hour days were spent writing budgets, schedules, deal memos, faxes and thousands of emails. Then one day I woke up in a production job at a huge animation house and looked at our pipeline. There was one mediocre feature after another, all distinguished by weak writing. (Not the writer’s fault, it turns out.) The fact that I could recognize this shook me up. I couldn’t do anything about those films. But I could finally become a writer.

That was a turning point in my life. No more procrastinating. This is why I write every day now. For pay or for pleasure, it’s a righteous gig.

Gary Lennon

Both of my parents were dead before I was 11 years old. That is why I write. At least that was where the desire was born. I had all of these feelings inside and I didn’t know what to do with them until I picked up a pen and put them down on paper. My world was turned upside down at an early age and I needed to make sense of the chaos known as my life. My problem was I picked up the bottle before I picked up the pen, so I had a late start. But better late than never…I truly feel privileged to go to work everyday and dig into my tool box and use my tools that were given to me. My DNA, my history, my life and put that down on paper and in doing so transcend my circumstances and make my journey authentic. I write because I have to. I write because I love it. I write because there are stories to be told…and I love telling stories. I’m Irish.

Cindy Chupack

But for me, writing was never a business. I once said to my agent when we were discussing my next career move, “Let’s take the money out of it,” and he looked at me as if I’d said, “Let’s take gravity out of it.” (I’m no longer with that agent.) I once left a hit network show that I loved to work for less money with a lesser title on an intriguing new cable show that spoke to me (and to millions of other women around the world, apparently). I’ve said no to high-paying development deals in exchange for no-paying, no-strings-attached opportunities to write what I wanted rather than what someone wanted from me. I quit a secure advertising job when I first moved to LA so I could read a pile of spec scripts for Disney TV animation. It was there I learned that Hollywood, for all its flaws, is a meritocracy when it comes to writing. A great script takes on a life of its own. A great script (like a great book), you can’t wait to pass around. A great script gets the writer work, even if the writer is a naive kid from Oklahoma.

Kalinda Vasquez

I write because it’s who I am. It’s how I think. I can’t stop my imagination from running away from me. My mind is always racing, pondering whimsical even nonsensical things. Things like — what if a miniature spaceship floated through my open window? What if my neighbor was a serial killer? What if I saw a T-Rex poke its head out from amongst the palms in the Hollywood Hills. All I can do is try to organize my thoughts — contain them and put them down onto paper. And maybe, just maybe, something I write will make someone think — possibly even propose a challenge or two.

Jane Espenson

I’ve been lucky, during my working life, to get to write for Ellen, Buffy, Lorelei, Starbuck and so many more unique characters. Getting to step into their voices has been incredibly fulfilling. The fact that Buffy has continued beyond its televised run into the world of comic books is amazing and wonderful to me. Her voice lives on. Starbuck, of course, has also not finished saying what she has to say. When a fair agreement is reached, I look forward to listening to more of what she has to say. And writing it down.

Are there kids out there somewhere now, writing lines for Apollo and Starbuck in their heads as they fall asleep? Am I not so strange that there can be other kids like me? I hope so. And I hope when those kids start pursuing careers, that there’s one here waiting for them.

Danny Rubin

In order to write the thing, I, too, had to commit to the reality of this unreal world. How would Phil react to this situation? How would his life proceed? I couldn’t look to any research to tell me what would happen. Facts couldn’t tell me the answer. Like Luke Skywalker, I had to search my feelings. To this science-trained east-coast guy, that phrase even now sounds stupid, but that’s what happens when you write a fantasy, or any drama, really. To search for truth in a world that can’t exist, a person needs to rely on intuition. What FEELS true? Writing seems to be a constant search for an inner resonance, a true-ringing singularity.

In Hollywood neither logic nor intuition have served me particularly well. Luck seems to be the most reliable guiding force, with maybe a modicum of talent and goodwill thrown in. Figuring out the Byzantine logic involved in pleasing Hollywood is not, believe it or not, the best part about doing this for a living. Spending my days believing in impossible things and chasing them towards an inner truth, now that’s a pretty good gig.

Hart Hanson

I write because I’m totally confused by the world. I never know what’s going on. I absolutely never know what absolutely anything absolutely means. I ask and the good-hearted, intelligent souls around me do their best to explain but I don’t get it. I don’t get quiddity or science or religion or psychology or why we laugh when people fall down or why people come together or why we drift apart. I don’t understand my friends or my enemies and I definitely don’t understand time or gravity or mob mentality or Crocs or botox or why people take some other people seriously when they so very, very obviously should not be taken seriously.

Writing is a way for me to organize the chaos around me. I can corral bits of the sloppy world into a clean white area measuring 8 ½ x 11 inches, where it is apprehensible. Then actors and directors and the DP and the crew all explain it back to me on 35 millimeter opaque celluloid squares twenty four times per second and sometimes — rarely, but sometimes — I go “Oh!” and I don’t wish I were a physicist or a great guitar player or a blimp pilot because for those few fleeting seconds, I understand some small facet of some small thing.

And that’s why I write.

Bill Lawrence

That’s what writing is to me — crafting a beautiful lie (beautiful, really? Give me a break I’m being artsy). It has to have some element of human emotional truth or whoever your audience is will turn the metaphorical channel. Anyway, back to the original question. Why do I write? As an acknowledged bullshitter, I thought I’d start with some of the lies writers tell. I don’t write because I couldn’t do anything else. I’m a bright guy, I could hold down a number of jobs. I could run a hat shop. I don’t love writing. Nobody does — it’s worse than fishing. Anyone that tells you that he loves to write has either never written anything, or, is in fact, an alien. Throw water in his face, if he is human he’ll get embarrassed and admit he’s never written. If he’s an alien, the water will burn his skin and kill him like in the Mel Gibson movie SIGNS.

Now the truths. I write because as horrible as writing is, having written something is pure pleasure. I like that my parents have something to talk to strangers about. I like ending the previous sentence with a preposition because I’m an artist. I write to get laid (that cliche about actresses only sexing up directors is just that, a cliche). I write to find love (with this one actress I thought I was writing to get laid, now nine years later I have three kids and a wife who constantly tells me to hold the wheel at “ten and two” when I drive). I write because I honestly couldn’t do anything else, and I love to write (that’s a callback from the previous paragraph). I write because parentheticals actually arouse me (they do). I write for money. I write because it makes me feel cool even though I know I’m not. I write for revenge on everyone that ever wronged me. Tim Stenger, you know what I’m talking about. I write to heal (myself, not the world — I’m not a wizard). I write because I’m lucky; we all know how many elements of success are beyond our control. I write because I secretly believe luck had nothing to do with it. I write because I’m arrogant, because I’m insecure, because I’m depressed, angry, joyous, drunk, bored… But most of all, I write because I’m full of shit.

Greg Berlanti

I’ve never considered myself much of a writer. I’m not particularly great at it. On my best day I don’t have half the talent of many people I’ve been lucky enough to hire and to work with. And this is not false humility. Ask any writer who works with me, they’ll tell you how much I rely on their abilities, how often I struggle to craft the simplest of scenes. I know a lot of other writers feel like they suck too, but that doesn’t make it easier (I know this because a large part of my day is convincing other writers they don’t suck. Once finished, I go back into my office and convince myself I do suck all over again). The problem is, regardless of my limited writing talent, I love telling stories. Creating a character, a world, a whole universe out of nothing. That part I can’t get enough of. I think about myself and storytelling the way Bill Clinton described himself and the Presidency, and I’m paraphrasing here, “There are guys who have done it better, but there’s no one who’s enjoyed it more.”

Howard Gordon

I write because it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. Not a day goes by that I don’t appreciate what a privilege it is to be a member of this profession. I suppose in some way, being a writer is the buy-in that allows me to enjoy the company and respect of my fellow writers. To count so many professional writers as friends and colleagues is one of my proudest accomplishments. I may not enjoy the creative process as much as my unnamed colleague, but I’d wager my WGA pension that I get every bit as much pleasure from my final draft — which only makes me want to belly up to the laptop and do it all over again.

Damon Lindelof

I write because I can’t help but make things up.

I write because I love to tell stories.

I write because my imagination compels me to do so.

I write because if I didn’t, I’d be branded a pathological liar.

Oh, and also because I’m still trying to make my dead father proud of me.

But that’s none of your goddamn business.

Here’s how to submit your story of why you write to The Black List Blog:

-Send Kate an email at kate@blcklst.com with your pitch, including an expected word count.

-Once Kate approves, return your piece (in the body of an email, please) to her by the accepted deadline along with a headshot, and your social media handle(s) and/or Medium account

-Look for your piece on the Black List Blog!

-Tag micro-versions of your story using #WhyWeWrite on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.