Warning: writer's block can be fatal!

The culprit in Anatomy of a Fall, revealed

But first…

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I’ve just seen Anatomy of a Fall. (I know – I’ve come to it rather late in the day.) It deserves its Palme d’Or and Oscar for Best Original Screenplay. I didn’t know until halfway into the movie that it’s about writers.

Basically, it hinges on writer’s block. Could this whole drama have been avoided if angry, dead Samuel had known about Write What You Don’t Know?

Whether his wife killed him or whether he killed himself, the bone of contention between them is that she’s a successful novelist who can write anywhere, whatever the suffering or the circumstances, while he longs to be a writer but can’t write more than 27 pages. Unwilling to blame himself, he blames her. He complains about not having time enough to write but constantly takes on projects so that he doesn’t have time to write—and face his own . . . what? His gnawing ambition? His resentful competitiveness? His devastating fear of failure?

So, who killed Samuel? His inner critic, if you ask me.

Poor dead fictional Samuel: wanting so desperately to be “a writer” and so full of excuses as to why he can’t write. If only he knew the sweetness of simply being creative with words, rather than flogging your imagination like an underfed mule. The pleasure of getting new insights and ideas when you write what you DON’T know rather than arduously trying to reproduce on the page the brilliant book you’ve already imagined complete, against which you constantly measure each half-born page.

Now for the contrast. Last weekend we had the 48-Hour Taos Film Festival. On Friday at 5pm, the 12 filmmakers who registered (including my son) were given a date, a prop, a line of dialogue, and a genre, and a little over two days to make a film under 7 minutes long. The screening on Monday night was a blast—and I realized I was loving it for the same reason I love our Prompt of the Week sessions on Zoom. It’s absurd to be critical of something that was written in 10 minutes, so all that matters is what’s original and imaginative and intriguing. The same goes for a 48-hour film—it’s a ridiculously short time frame, so you just delight in people’s creativity and courage in accepting the challenge. You appreciate what’s strong, and overlook or forgive what’s feeble.

You’re not abandoning critical judgment; you’re just teaching your inner critic its place. It’s there to help you, not destroy you. There’s no point in criticizing what’s not good until you’re confident in what you’re good at.

And, as a listener or an audience member, it’s delicious to be able to simply appreciate what the human imagination can generate and kick criticism down the road. It nourishes your spirit. It’s life-affirming. I said this to my son’s father, and he said: more of that would make the world a better place. And I said: that’s how Navé and I feel—that’s why we’re so committed to the Imaginative Storm.

And a reminder: if you’d like to spend an hour creating and appreciating and teaching your inner critic its place, join us for the Prompt of the Week any Thursday at 3 pm PT / 6 pm ET!