Nobody Wants to Read Your Shit: Full Notes

PART ONE: ADS

⇀​ Nobody wants to read your shit

⇀​ This means a few things for how you should write
⇀​ Streamline your message. Focus it and pare it down to its simplest,
clearest, easiest-to-understand form
⇀​ Make its expression fun—or sexy or interesting or scary or
informative. Make it so compelling that a person would have to be
crazy NOT to read it
⇀​ Apply that to all forms of writing or art or commerce
⇀​ Understanding this means you’ll develop empathy. It will concentrate your
mind
⇀​ Switch back and forth from your own POV as the writer to the POV
of the reader
⇀​ Ask yourself with every sentence and every phrase: Is this
interesting? Is the reader bored? Is she confused?
⇀​ Think in concepts
⇀​ It isn’t enough to catch the reader’s eye: you must also have a product, you
must also have a message, and that message must stick.
⇀​ And that message has to make the reader think, “Hmm, that makes
sense,” or, “Hmm, I like that.”
⇀​ A concept takes a conventional claim and puts a spin on it
⇀​ It establishes a frame of reference that is greater than the product
itself
⇀​ It frames—or reframes—the issue entirely
⇀​ A high concept film is the same way: it must . . .
⇀​ Have a narrative idea that can be communicated in 10 seconds or
less
⇀​ Makes you—the moment you hear it—imagine all the cool scenes
that are certain to be in the movie (and that you want to see)
⇀​ I won’t tackle anything until I know the concept
⇀​ The Iliad takes the Trojan War—the subject matter—and adds a
concept to it: the Wrath of Achilles
⇀​ Steal without shame
⇀​ Take something else and reconceive it
⇀​ Borrow the aspects that possess gravity—and that no one else has used—to
reinforce what you’re trying to get across
⇀​ It ain’t stealing if you put a spin on it
⇀​ How to have a bad idea

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 ⇀​ Try too hard
⇀​ Work mechanically
⇀​ Follow formula
⇀​ Dissolve into panic and desperation
⇀​ Think of the creative process as problems seeking solutions
⇀​ Implicit in this mindset is that there is a solution and that solution is
embedded within the problem
⇀​ To find the solution, what you have to do first is define the problem
⇀​ When you’re watching your novel dissolve before you, ask yourself, “What
is the problem?”
⇀​ Normally, the problem is “What’s this damn thing about?” In other
words, the theme
⇀​ In Breaking Bad, the theme is Transformation, so all scenes,
episodes, and seasons of the show will be Transformation.
When lost, they’ll return to that theme.
⇀​ Have a call to action
⇀​ In fiction, a call to action is the Payoff. Act Three. The Climax.

PART TWO: FICTION 1

⇀​ Your writing is inauthentic when you’re being inauthentic, so stop

trying to be anything and just let yourself be

⇀​ A real writer has something to give

⇀​ She’s lived enough and suffered enough and thought deeply enough about
her experience to be able to process it into something that’s of value to
others, even if only as entertainment

PART THREE: HOLLYWOOD

⇀​ Three Act Structure (Hook, Buildup, Payoff)

⇀​ Hook the audience (Act One), build up the tension and complications (Act
Two), and then pay it all off (Act Three).
⇀​ That’s how you tell a joke, sell a car, get laid, or talk yourself out of a bind
⇀​ The David Lean Rule: “Everything can be divided into 8 or 12 major
sequences.” (2 or 3 in Act 1, 4 or 6 in Act 2, and 2 or 3 in Act 3.)
⇀​ The Hunger Games has sequences (Rue Sequence, Cave Sequence)
⇀​ Each sequence in Arabian Nights has 10, 15, 20 scenes
⇀​ Each sequence is a movie within a movie, and each sets the stage for
the sequence to follow

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⇀​ Genre may be the most important factor in crafting your work (and
finding it a market)
⇀​ Why? Because every film has a genre and every genre has its own set of
ironclad, unbreakable rules
⇀​ Every story needs to be about something—meaning it needs to have a
theme
⇀​ A single idea holds the work together and makes it cohere
⇀​ Nothing in a book or movie is not on-theme
⇀​ Embedded in the Inciting Incident is the Climax
⇀​ Liam Neeson swears to hunt down his daughter’s kidnappers, and the
kidnappers bid him good luck. The Climax? He hunts them the fuck down
⇀​ If your Climax is not embedded within the Inciting Incident, you have no
Inciting Incident
⇀​ The Second Act belongs to the Villian
⇀​ The buildup is all about learning more about the enemy, so the Villain
needs to be centerstage in Act Two—she must be better understood
⇀​ This applies even when the Villain is internal
⇀​ Every character must stand for something greater than themselves
⇀​ Each well-written character stands for some quality, some aspect of the
story’s theme that transcends his narrow significance as an individual
⇀​ That’s how you have a story move on a thematic level without being on the
nose
⇀​ What does that closing door represent? You may not know how to say it,
but you feel it
⇀​ Keep it primal
⇀​ A movie should be so basic, so soul-grounded, that it could be understood
by a caveman.
⇀​ Keeping it primal means telling the story in pictures
⇀​ Start at the end
⇀​ Begin with the climax, then work backwards to the beginning
⇀​ The ending will dictate the beginning
⇀​ This back-to-front method works for anything: albums, collections, novels,
business pitches, concerts
⇀​ First figure out where you want to finish, then work backwards to set up
everything you need to get you there
⇀​ Do this not only with writing your book, but also with your book proposal
⇀​ These hollywood rules apply to nonfiction, fiction, everything
⇀​ What’s the genre?
⇀​ What’s the theme?
⇀​ What’s the climax?
⇀​ Who’s the hero?

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 ⇀​ Who’s the villain?
⇀​ What are the stakes?
⇀​ What is in jeopardy?
⇀​ Writing a speech? Write it like a novel. Use the principles of storytelling
⇀​ Stories work. So tell it to me as a story
⇀​ Have stakes
⇀​ Whenever we were stuck, he’d say, “Have a body hit the floor,” meaning
Raise the Stakes
⇀​ Is it a cheap trick? Sure, but it works
⇀​ Put your characters in jeopardy
⇀​ Get your characters in danger as quickly as possible and keep ratcheting
up that jeopardy throughout the story
⇀​ But jeopardy doesn’t have to be bullets and bombs
⇀​ It could be looking uncool, or getting in trouble
⇀​ Our characters must, with life or death desperation, want or need a Thing
or Outcome (stakes). Then their hold on or hope for acquiring that Thing
or Outcome must be thrust into grave-and-getting-graver peril (jeopardy).
⇀​ Subtext is more powerful than text
⇀​ A teacher makes two students act out a boring scene about buying
groceries, but then she tells them to play it as if they were seducing each
other
⇀​ The social script is what keeps conversations civil—it’s what mandates that
we speak about groceries and not our feelings—so it’s through subtext that
we show how we really feel
⇀​ It’s another instance of “show, don’t tell” (a.k.a. “describe, don’t explain”
or the “prove it” principle). Describe how the character shows us their
emotions/thoughts; don’t tell us how they’d explain them. Don’t let them
explain them at all.
⇀​ American movies hold up American values
⇀​ If you’re making this type of movie—the ones that go up in American
theaters—then you must do the following
⇀​ Do not take the climax out of the protagonist’s hands
⇀​ Grapple with the American Dream (and it’s inverse—the American
Nightmare)
⇀​ Be genuine—not ironic
⇀​ Write for a star
⇀​ Don’t write a character that no A List-er is going to play
⇀​ A star role has these qualities
⇀​ Their issues drive the story. Theirs and nobody else’s. Every
character in the story revolves around them.

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 ⇀​ Their desire/issue/objective is (to them, in the context of the world)
monumental. The stakes are life and death
⇀​ Their passion for the desire/issue/objective is unquenchable. They
will pursue it to the gates of hell
⇀​ At the critical points in the story, his actions or needs (and nobody’s
else’s) dictate the way the story will end
⇀​ The story ends when his issues are resolved and no sooner
⇀​ The character must undergo a radical change from the start of the
film to the finish. She has to have an arc, she must evolve.
⇀​ Your theme also needs to be worth of a star
⇀​ Because the character embodies the theme, remember?
⇀​ Don’t be afraid to make your character suffer—it’s good drama. The
greater an ordeal we can put them through, the more an actor will want to
play it
⇀​ Give the star an inner and outer journey
⇀​ Remember that a star wants to be unforgettable
⇀​ Would Jennifer Lawrence want to play this role? Zendaya? Kerry
Washington?
⇀​ A hero in fiction needs to possess the same scale and depth, the same star
power as a Hollywood lead
⇀​ The all is lost moment
⇀​ Is very important—what page is J-Law flipping to first?
⇀​ All hope is lost—the protagonist’s goal seem unachievable
⇀​ Your job as a writer is to give your hero the deepest, darkest, most
hellacious All Is Lost Moment possible—and then find a way out for her
⇀​ The moment of epiphany
⇀​ A breakthrough/insight/awakening immediately following the All is Lost
beat
⇀​ It fuels the final battle
⇀​ Here’s what makes a good epiphany
⇀​ The protagonist reaches it on their own, with no external input
⇀​ It does not magically solve the protagonist’s problem
⇀​ It delivers the truth the lead has been in denial of
⇀​ At first it sets the hero aback, but then it tremendously empowers
them because they’re standing on solid ground now
⇀​ A great epiphanic moment not only defines the stakes and the jeopardy for
the protagonist, but also restates the theme and answers the question,
“What is this story about?”
⇀​ Give your villain a brilliant speech (even if they’re internal)
⇀​ A classic Villain Speech accomplishes at least two objectives

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 ⇀​ It allows the antagonist to state his or her point of view as clearly
and as powerfully as possible
⇀​ It is so rationally stated and compelling in its logic that we in the
audience (or at least part of us) find ourselves thinking, “He may be
evil, but dude’s got a point”
⇀​ This is important because the more interesting the villain, the more
interesting the hero—and the more satisfying the hero’s triumph
⇀​ The villain must be kept human and he must represent the
counter-theme

⇀​ We learn by making things work, but, most importantly, by writing

PART FOUR: FICTION 2

⇀​ Here’s what we’ve learned so far

⇀​ Every work must be about something. It must have a theme.
⇀​ Every work must have a concept—that is, a unique twist or framing device
⇀​ Every work must have a mood
⇀​ Every work must start with an inciting incident
⇀​ Every story must be divided into three acts (or 8-12 David Lean sequences)
⇀​ Every character must represent something greater than themselves
⇀​ The protagonist embodies the theme
⇀​ The antagonist embodies the counter-theme
⇀​ The protagonist and antagonist clash in the climax around the issue of the
theme
⇀​ The climax resolves the clash between the theme and counter-theme
⇀​ Nonfiction is fiction
⇀​ When you write the truth, treat it as fiction
⇀​ Give it the 3 acts, make it cohere around a theme. Have a hero,
villain, and climax.
⇀​ Truth is not truth; fiction is truth
⇀​ When you write the truth, it sounds like bullshit. When you write fiction, it
sounds real.
⇀​ Narrative device
⇀​ A narrative device asks these questions
⇀​ What’s the POV?
⇀​ What’s the tense—when is the story being told?
⇀​ And in what form? Letters? Ghosts?
⇀​ What tone does the narrator employ?
⇀​ To whom is the story being told?

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 ⇀​ If you get this right, the story will tell itself
⇀​ But! The narrative device must be on-theme

⇀​ Novels are about immersion

⇀​ They’re too long to be organized efficiently
⇀​ It’s like an acid trip
⇀​ Embrace it
⇀​ No one can write a novel and not become completely submerged in it. You
have to or you can’t keep going.
⇀​ Think in blocks of time
⇀​ You must master the art of delayed gratification
⇀​ Can you do a first draft in a month? No? A rough sketch in three weeks?
No? A rough-rough in seven days?
⇀​ The enemy is resistance
⇀​ Thinking in blocks of time gives you patience—and lets you be immersed,
not overwhelmed
⇀​ Think in multiple drafts
⇀​ I do between 10 and 15 for every book—like most writers
⇀​ With each rewrite you can have a focus—like voice or characterization or
pacing
⇀​ Or you could just rewrite and rewrite until its soul has been fully formed
⇀​ You’re not writing a draft, you’re writing what you’ll rewrite for the next
draft
⇀​ You’ve got 15 tries to make it work, so don’t get stressed by hating draft 4
⇀​ Surrender to the material
⇀​ You’re in a cage match with your book, but it’s also a love affair
⇀​ You can fight all you want, but eventually you’ll have to surrender to it
⇀​ Your book wants to be something—your job is to find out what that is, and
help it become it
⇀​ Master the material
⇀​ After you’ve found your book, what it wants to be, now you have to defeat
it
⇀​ Writerly indulgence ends here; now you have to serve the reader
⇀​ What the screenwriter taught the novelist
⇀​ Screenplays are structure, at their core. Screenwriters have a mastery of
structure—it’s what they can control—and the novelist can control this too
⇀​ Sometimes lit fic writers rely too heavily on their own command of
language that they fail to fully exploit the power of structure
⇀​ Don’t fail to. Take the Hollywood fade in, and bring it to your Chapter One.

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PART FIVE: NONFICTION

⇀​ Let’s review
⇀​ Every story must have a concept. It must put a unique and original spin,
twist or framing device upon the material.
⇀​ Every story must be about something. It must have a theme.
⇀​ Every story must have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Act One, Act
Two, Act Three.
⇀​ Every story must have a mood
⇀​ Every story must have a hero
⇀​ Every story must have a villain
⇀​ Every story must start with an Inciting Incident, embedded within which
is the story’s climax
⇀​ Every story must escalate through Act Two in terms of energy, stakes,
complication and significance/meaning as it progresses
⇀​ Every story must build to a climax centered around a clash between the
hero and the villain that pays off everything that came before and that pays
it off on-theme

⇀​ All of this can be applied to nonfiction, including your presentation

on geraniums to the Master Gardening class

⇀​ Let’s review again: What are the universal structural elements of all
stories?
⇀​ Hook.
⇀​ Build.
⇀​ Payoff.
⇀​ How to write a terrible memoir about Grandma Julia
⇀​ Start with her birth
⇀​ Continue through her childhood and education
⇀​ Cover her cross-continental immigration
⇀​ Describe her various marriages, children, and political career
⇀​ End with her death
⇀​ I literally fell asleep
⇀​ Instead, start with theme
⇀​ What is this story about? What does Julia’s life mean?
⇀​ This is the toughest part of the whole project
⇀​ Find the issue, and break it down into a single sentence
⇀​ And remember, it’s usually the least digestible part of the story that’s the
most important
⇀​ How about… “The human toll of the grand, visionary, national dream”

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 ⇀​ Cut everything that is not on-theme
⇀​ Present the rest as on theme
⇀​ Next, decide on the climax
⇀​ After that, you’ll see that just having your theme and climax, you can
already tell that you’ve got a good story
⇀​ Now solve the problem of the climax—that it takes place long before
she achieves her goal
⇀​ Make it a memory—add the contrast of past and present
⇀​ FRAME her life as a search for forgiveness
⇀​ A frame is an angle, a theme embodied

PART SIX, SEVEN, & EIGHT: SELF-HELP, THE ARTIST’S CALLING, &
PORN

⇀​ This is the wrong way to write a self help book

⇀​ Introduce the thesis
⇀​ Cite examples and supporting evidence
⇀​ And then recap
⇀​ Don’t “tell ‘em what you’re gonna tell ‘em, tell ‘em, and tell ‘em what
you’ve told ‘em.”

⇀​ Fall back on everything we’ve learned before: Concept. Theme.

Narrative Device.

⇀​ Your pile of pages does not have to be a story yet—not in the first,
second, or sixth draft

⇀​ There is a devil—Resistance
⇀​ It radiates off the blank page and tries to kill you
⇀​ Either it gets you or you get it
⇀​ There is an angel—the Muse
⇀​ It lets the words you make faucet out of you, on occasion, exceed your
wildest dreams
⇀​ It will make you ask, “Where in the world did THAT come from?”

⇀​ An artist enters the void with nothing and comes back with something

⇀​ Write your white whale

⇀​ It’s the thing that scares you the most

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 ⇀​ And it should scare you: mediocre ideas never elevate the heart rate. And
great ones make you break out in a sweat.
⇀​ What Nobody Wants to Read Your Shit means is that none of us want
to hear your self-centered, ego-driven, unrefined demands for
attention.
⇀​ Why should we? It’s boring. There’s nothing in it for us.
⇀​ What we can learn from good porn
⇀​ When you’ve come to a sex scene, don’t stop the story so we can watch two
people fucking—the fucking should advance the story, it should have
purpose
⇀​ And never write me a sex scene where nothing happens but sex

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