by James Dowd
“You’re overthinking it.”
— said by me, every single day while shaking my head.
Everyone overthinks writing. You overthink it at work when you’re writing even the most basic emails. You overthink it when texting. You overthink it by comparing your work to Hemingway (you’re not). You overthink it and then tell yourself that that’s your writing process (it’s not). You overthink it when you think it’s an impossible feat. You believe thought is the fuel for words, even though it’s actually the one thing fueling your inability to get those words on the page.
“Writer” is a professional title many dream of bearing, and a craft that can bring one’s life meaning, excitement, adventure, and riches. For others, it’s not at all. Some just want to be able to write a simple damn email better, and that’s why they’re here. Regardless of your job, need, experience, or dreams, writing is and always will be an integral form of everyday communication that drives us personally and professionally. And yet, we’re all still just overthinking the whole damn thing. It’s so much simpler than anyone realizes. You’re just overthinking it.
Writing is one of our strongest and most valuable tools we have to interact with this world, and yet we overthink it constantly because it scares us, it intimidates us, it challenges us, it makes us feel uncomfortable, and no one wants that nervous, I could fuck this up and look stupid feeling all day, every day. We don’t fully understand it or feel comfortable experiencing it, so we waste time trying to add structure and rules and meaning and restrictions where they’re not needed, or we altogether keep our distance. We blame the rules, or the endless possibilities, or the competition, and we run away from it. We say that writing down words to express ourselves is just not our thing, even though choosing not to write is no different than choosing not to speak. You can certainly give it a shot, but it’s surely going to limit your ability to engage with the world around you. So why silence yourself? Why give in to fear and abandon this gift?
Simply, the practice of writing — having a documented conversation with yourself — is the key to understanding anything, so it’s therefore understandable that it’s something we overthink. In fact, I often encourage people to write things they normally wouldn’t think to write as a way to better understand or prepare. For example, I always encourage applicants of any job to write out the interview before it happens. You can always assume what questions will be asked, and you can simply make up some more. Then, write your response. Actually write it down. Write down the question, and your answer. Then build. Add jokes. Add story structure. Add polish to sound more professional. You don’t have to memorize it, but the simple act of writing it will make you more prepared than any other candidate. By writing it, you understand it without overthinking it, because if you leave it in your mind, it’s sure to repeat on itself, flip, spin, and disappear from inside your brain. It would provide value to think about it, surely, but nowhere near what you’d receive from writing it, because it would be documented to allow you to develop and learn. I’ve offered that advice countless times, and used it myself successfully, and yet no one has ever reported back that they used it. It seems trivial, or complicated, but that’s just overthinking it.
Because writing is a collection of our thoughts, ideas, and feelings, all coming together with some desire or intended action, we believe that we must overthink it, that if it were so simple everyone would do it, that it has to be perfect, that this is the way it must be done. But, what you’re forgetting is that writing is simple. The act of writing a job interview is incredibly simple, yet no one takes the advice. All you have to do is put the thoughts right there in your brain right there on the page, that’s it, and your chances of success increases. Yet, we say we can’t because writing is hard (it’s not) or because our brains move too fast (they don’t), but these are just excuses to explain away the fact that we’re having difficulty putting our thoughts, ideas, and feelings onto the page where they can be discovered as incomplete, or flawed, or revealing. Stop, just stop, you’re overthinking it.
The writing skill-set turns out to already be inside you, I promise. It’s a fire inside that drives you to process, understand, create, and connect, and it’s fueled by everything you’ve ever read, listened to, watched, and loved. But, sinking down on top of all of that, drowning it out, stifling the flames, is the fog of ego, anxiety, overconfidence, and self-doubt, preventing it from floating free as brilliant, crisp communication. If only you could find a way to unleash it; imagine what you’d write. Imagine what you’d craft if you felt capable and inspired. Imagine what you’d create when you felt uninhibited, confident, and free. Remember: you’re imaginative, and playful, and have experienced many great, wonderful, memorable, sharable, things. In fact, your brain has memorized thousands upon thousands of words and is quite adept at stringing them up into sentences and launching them from your mouth without much thought. Just think about your last argument. Lots flew out there, huh? Maybe some shouldn’t have. You were creating, but not editing. You were acting, not overthinking. You saw this rare, exciting, exhilarating mix of thought and passion. You were a Writer.
You’re here now because you have recognized and imagined these things and yet your patterns and processes aren’t working. You have all the necessary education and brain power to write effectively, and yet you still struggle — either to start, to finish, or both. This book will help you develop that simple, innate skill so you can become a better Writer, to set aside established patterns in order to look at things in a different way, to write as freely as if you were completely unbound by fear, self-consciousness, and clouds of thought.
As I’ve gotten older and placed in more managerial and directorial roles, my efforts are rarely about teaching someone how to write, but instead, teaching them how to get out of their own way to do something we’re all not only already trained to do when we’re children but that we’re wired to do as human beings — tell stories, express, connect, communicate. Yet, all of my techniques, though helpful, are often turned aside at first as being too easy, too obvious, too simple, too dumb. It’s only when I press on and they stumble still that they try them, and then they find that though thinking a little dumber and taking the sometimes obvious paths was the best writing process all along. So, onward we stagger together into something new, something entirely dumb, but absolutely worth not overlooking.
After many long years as a Writer, these are my dirty, dumb secrets. These techniques are what I find myself teaching every day. From TV shows to Fortune 500 boardrooms, I’ve found that writing is rarely an intellectual exercise, never perfect, and never without opposition. It’s also certainly never an insurmountable feat. It’s easier than everyone realizes, and anything can be accomplished with these tips and techniques designed to put words on page without excess thought or attachment. In fact, after all my years as a Writer, all of my advice can be summed up by the personal pursuit of just thinking less and always trying to be a bit dumber in my thoughts and actions.
And so, I welcome you to this stupid little book. Here, I’ll teach you how to Write Dumb, to get out of your own way in order to stop overthinking the writing process so you can be a better, faster, more efficient, more creative Writer, because, quite simply, writing without thought is writing without worry, and we could all use a little less worry in our lives. I’ll offer my methods for unleashing words onto the page with a wild fury. I’ll share with you the dumbest tips and tricks imaginable, which will actually change the way you approach the written word from now on. Some are so dumb you might consider skipping them, but that would truly just be moronic, because they work, and this book is about dummifying and getting over yourself anyways — to simplify your thought processes, to judge less and write better, faster, every time — so it’s time to get comfortable with being a dumb-dumb. When you do, even if just for a short few moments, your ability to shut off your inner critic and expert will help you realize your full potential as a fully-functioning creative Writer.
So, here on out, this will be your guide to forgetting the fact that you’re intelligent and educated. It’ll be a simple methodology that helps you shake off the need to be perfect. It’ll help you uncover that, deep down, you’re already an exceptional Writer — you were just too dumb to notice.
Most likely, there’s already a Writing for Dummies books, but that’s not this book. I’m not smart enough to write one of those. Instead, I’m presupposing that as a Writer, or someone who wants to be a Writer, or just as someone who wants to write better, you’re intelligent and driven and do not need things simplified to such a degree that I’d go so far as to actually call you a dummy. The point of this book is also certainly not to insult or degrade those with lesser intelligence, so if you want to get into an uproar about the use of words like ‘idiot’ or ‘dumb’ then good luck, because I welcome the free publicity. Shout it from the rooftops, you complete idiot! Tell everyone you know how horrible I am! Call your congressman! Don’t forget social media, tell them too! Also, saying ‘dumb’ and ‘moronic’ and things like that will certainly not be the worst or most offensive things I say throughout this book, I promise. You’ve been warned.
Writing dumb is about abandoning ego, because writing itself is not about how smart we are, or how smart we think we are, or how educated we are, or how hardworking we are. It’s simply about how good of a process we have, how simple and achievable it is, not how dynamic and impressive it is. It’s about maintaining an approach to the words so as to stay ahead of them and not let them become those things we fear. Otherwise, you’ll be overrun. You’ll lose out to the endless possibilities that lie ahead. So, from this page forward, you’re no longer intelligent, educated, and talented. You’re a damn fool, free to explore and experiment with unknown, unexpected things without fear or ego. No one is looking over your shoulder. In fact, starting today, you’re outside yourself. You’re not even you. That’s where you’ll be free to discover that through it all, you were always an exceptional Writer standing in your own way, and now you’re free to capitalize that W.
So, here we go. Forget what you learned in school, get ready to turn your normal brain functions off for a bit, and stop trying to show off with all your fancy words. Do not consider the future, the possibility, the critiques. Do not plan your success when you haven’t even written a sentence. Simplify your thinking, calm your ego, strip away external forces, and write. Just write. But more importantly, stop overthinking it. They’re just words, and none of us are perfict.
Alright, let’s get dumb.
Let’s Get Dumb
“One does not discover new lands without consenting
to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.”
— Andre Gide
How stupid it is to even try to be a Writer. It’s always against the odds. It’s never handed to you. And it’s rarely a safe bet that you’ll be able to pay the bills long term. Like a soldier at war, writing consists of long periods of soul-wrenching boredom punctuated occasionally by brief moments of frenzied excitement and absolute terror. And yet, so many of us actively, joyfully pursue it. Hell, you’re even reading this book to get better at it, and I spent the time writing the damn thing! We’re fools running right toward that war, but at least we’re in it together.
The painful thing about all this, yet somehow the most freeing thing, is that it’s all on you, the individual, the Writer. This is rarely a team effort, and therefore success, or lack of it, rests on your shoulders alone. Surely, I’m here to help, but this novel, this screenplay, this email to a customer, these words you hope to craft, whatever it is you’re writing, it’s all yours and yours alone, so everything hangs on your ability to reflect, and consider, and feel, and work, and perform — to always write more and think less. There’s no one to blame, and there’s no one to share the spotlight with. It’s all on you, my foolish friend.
We’re in for some shit, for sure, especially when you consider the environments in which we write and work. Regardless of our workplace or industry, we all operate in an achievement-oriented culture that celebrates our knowledge and accumulated skills, as well as our ability to display it or unleash it on demand. Admiration, and self-fulfillment, and all that stuff we crave, exist here. That’s what makes it difficult to admit when we’re ignorant or incapable, especially in terms of putting ideas on paper. Our average workplace environments are structured so that the subordinate does more asking, and the boss does more telling. It’s considered general ignorance — but in the pursuit of understanding — to ask questions. Not only Writers but all of us try to exist in our problem-solving culture in which knowing things and being able to tell others, as opposed to asking others, is what’s valued. And, those who “just get it” or who find ways to succeed without appearing ignorant are more commonly praised and promoted. So, our egos prevent us from asking questions — from revealing our ignorance or falling on our faces in failure and disgrace — because we’re always in pursuit of success, and like how you have to dress for the job you want, you have to act the part, as well. And so we pretend that we know. We act like we can do anything. We fake it until we make it. Even if that means we do nothing, we learn nothing, we write nothing. But that is a sure-fire way to fail at life.
What makes writing dumb great is that it’s all internal. It’s in your head. It’s private. In here, you’re perfectly allowed to be an absolute dumb-dumb. You don’t have to know things. You don’t have to be right. You don’t have to be perfect. No one’s in here to be impressed. No one can see any of this. No one can hear these words bouncing around in your brain. No one can hear your inner voice reading yourself my words inside your head right now. It’s all for you, and you alone, and in here, dumb is good. It means you’re trying, and leaning, and advancing. Plus, admiration, and self-fulfillment, and all that stuff we crave, exist here, too. So, we begin in here, in your brain, and we feel free to fail in ridiculously dumb ways, and then we’ll work outward from there.
For myself, my foolish journey toward self-fulfillment as a Writer ultimately began when I last met with my college advisor, who also happened to be the department head, and the professor of most of my classes. At that point, if anyone had an opinion on whether or not I had the ability to make a career of writing it was the woman who had read a majority of my work. Because of that, I was already doomed, but was too dumb to realize it.
What kind of Writer I wanted to be, I wasn’t sure. Maybe TV or movies or novels or journalism or sports or whatever. I was unsure of everything except one thing: I wanted to write. I wanted my title to say “Writer.” There was something romantic about that, something I could be proud of. But, when I posed this path as a possibility, as something that intrigued and interested me, she immediately shut me up. She pointed out the uncertainty, the strange hours, the lack of benefits, the competition, the talent required. She gave me no hope that I would, or even could, be a Writer. I don’t remember how the rest of the meeting went, but what I do remember was walking out of her office. I was angry. And like any good creative, I tended to be “difficult.” So, I did what any young, rebellious, “difficult” creative would do, I stole something from her. I grabbed a writing book off her shelf and walked out. Damn her, I would become a Writer, despite everything this expert had to say about it, and I would do so with her book as my guide. . I had done nothing impressive with words and showed no apparent aptitude, but I was both foolish enough and brave enough to do what I wanted. A good mix of those things and no one can stop you. Some want to write, some can’t write, and some can’t not write. What a gloriously dumb move I made that day because here we are...inside your brain...weird.
So, before we get into any writing, ever, let us first all humbly admit that we’re idiots in some capacity, that this desire to be a Writer or to even try to express ourselves through these little symbols is foolish, and that every word we type will be a risk, but it will always be a risk worth taking. We must ignore those critics, no matter how accomplished, powerful,
or knowledgeable they may be. We must follow the path we see fit for ourselves, even if there’s no clear way through. We must agree that we do not know everything. It’s not our brilliance that we should celebrate, but our awareness that we’re not brilliant at all, because that self-awareness is something worthy of admiration, and self-fulfillment, and all that stuff we crave.
Dumb Writing Tip #1: Be dumb enough to believe.
Consider a room full of desks and people of all ages, genders, and ethnicities all silently writing around you. From their pens flow every idea, every point of view, every word. It’s all there, in multitude. Whatever you want to write, someone else is already writing it in this very room. Out there in this sea of hard-working people are blog posts, screenplays, Broadway musicals, comic books, and crime novels. There are terrible ones and great ones, and everything in between. There are even boring old PowerPoint presentations, newsletters, student essays, and thank you cards to grandma. No matter the format or medium, everyone is writing and with so much out there, it all seems to be a race to find out who can their work out to the world the fastest.
So what’s different about them? Why are they working so fast while you watch? Why does it seem so easy for them to keep their heads down and their words flowing? What sets them apart from you? What will ensure they finish when you don’t? What makes them so special?
Answer: they don’t realize they’re in that room, let alone that it exists. What’s holding you back from finishing your work and being a more efficient Writer is that you’re quite aware of everyone around you. You’re looking around while they focus. You’re comparing yourself to everyone and everything. You’re overthinking it all, and worrying too much, and drafting too much, and editing too much, making excuses instead of writing like everyone around you. It’s not enough to just be in the room — to feel the energy of art being made, to say that you too are one of these special types. No, you have to contribute. Writing has never been a great spectator sport. You didn’t come here to watch. You came to write.