How did you begin?
For me, my earliest memory was Mrs. Collins, my second grade teacher. asking us to write a story after she had taught us how to write the letters of the alphabet.
I wrote a story called THREE MILES FROM NILLYPOO. It was linear. It had three acts. It had an ending.
And I think it was 5 sentences long.
Why do I remember this so perfectly? Discovering the power to make up anything I wanted gave me a beautiful and infinite purpose. I remember flipping that page over to finish the story on the back of the paper—– I didn’t even know if I was allowed to continue on the back! ——and it blew my mind.
This is my first memory.
I would later write a short film when I was 12. I would shoot that film in the woods near our house and star in the film. I gave my little brother a small role.
I became a poet as a teenager. Wrote a play in my early 20’s and then a screenplay after I was 30.
Now it’s been decades and today I will write again like that 7 year old boy. I will open the blank page and create. I will imagine something new and beautiful and I will put it down. I will not know where it will go. I might not think of others when I make my choices. I will surrender to the living spark in me that was not taught, and a story will arrive.
But many days, even today, I might find myself buried in anxiety over if it will ever good enough. I will struggle with the problems I face with the characters and the logic of their actions, whether anyone will understand what they do, and how my story will end.
I might regret how much time I have wasted in the past, working on stories I didn’t finish. That I should have written more. Can I fix the script in front of me? Should I have written this in the first place? Is it right for this industry today?
I have habits of writing which I now question. I have practiced ways of writing that some days I wonder if they work. Maybe I should try another way? Perhaps I should consider doing less of one thing or trying something new. Today, like many days of my writing life, I believe other writers know something I don’t, and I might compare my work to the scripts of others.
I ask you to start over where you began. At the beginning, there was nothing that could stop me from flipping over that page and writing that story. I was a comet. No one was there except the lantern inside me, leading the way. Today, I choose to forget every problem with writing I’ve ever told myself, because when i started writing as a child, they did not exist, and most importantly, they were not true.
They were never true.
Stay close to the spark that started everything. Refresh your memory of the discovery of your own imagination. When did you claim your talent? Work from this place. I want to write like that boy in Mrs. Collins’ class today. I want to honor her instruction and repeat my effort that morning many years ago, for my work deserves joy and freedom before all else. So I ask you again.
How did you begin?
By: Gordy Hoffman
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I had written pieces, short stories, quite a pile of poetry etc but my first novel The Profound Art of Omens was a direct result of Michigan shutting down its State of the art Film Incentive Program in 2011. I went from working nonstop on feature films to completely out of work and wondering how I was going to pay the mortgage and feed my family (similar to living through the’89 San Francisco earthquake except then I was a young single man and only had to worry about myself and my neighbors.
So here it was twenty something years later flat broke and out of work only this time because of the caprices of a narrow minded republican governor as opposed to an 7.9 earthquake. The means were different but effect the same.
I was sitting in my garden praying for rain complaining bitterly about the short sidedness of people (their non empathetic approach to their fellow humans) when a voice quiet yet rather unnervingly clear said ‘Do something about it, or dig a hole and shout in that because no one really wants to hear your complaining (unless it’s humorous). That’s when I started writing, that day and have never stopped. Four published novels later (and a couple screenplays) and my concerns for my fellow human beings are in those pages, sometimes couched in laughter sometimes tears. The people who read my books all glean value (however trifle) in the words my characters bring to life. Think that’s called magic.
Thanks for letting me share!
M E Nyberg
This made more sense than the last hundred articles I’ve read on screenwriting. Thanks, Gordy.
I love this.
I am in my late 40’s and just began creative writing! The lantern is bright and words are flowing out of me like lava. I am loving this time in my life. I thank your readers for the feedback! Thank you so much for the inspiration!
I’ve not written this year. As Byron once said, I write to empty my mind. I haven’t and I feel as if I’ve gone mad.
Thank you for reminding me of that child who wrote her first story, play, poetry .
Wow. I needed this, and I needed it right now as I’m sitting in front of my laptop, struggling with the screenplay I’ve been working on. Thank you.
Fine piece. Analytical . . . and introspective–being true to oneself and to disregard the social and emotional detritus that surrounds us.
Like you, I began with the imagination, joy and unfettered-ness of a child. I had an old typewriter, which in itself was a joy to work, and I had a story about a lonely boy who could communicate with dolphins. It never got finished, but it was a tentative manifestation of that spark. How easily we get consumed by our critical Self as life moves forward. Thank you, it was a joy to remember the beginnings ✨
Thank you, Gordy, for your wisdom and insight. I first realized I could write in the forth grade when I was asked to create a story in any way I chose. I wrote a poem about Pearl Harbor and turned it in to the teacher. To my shock and embarassment, she accused me of copying something from a book or magazine. I sulked until I realized she had paid me an enormous compliment. She thought my work was done by an adult, not a ten year old boy.
I was an audiologist for 44 years, a choice made when marriage and children forced a stable income. But I never stopped writing, Magazine articles, speeches, a book, stage plays and now working on a screenplay. I must write or cease to exist.