I’m someone who’s driven more by enthusiasms than desires. I’ve never created a conventional bucket list, filled with places to see and things to do. At least not consciously. So, when exploring material for this post, I was surprised to discover that many of the things I might have put onto a list — from a writer’s perspective — I’ve already done.
For instance, I heard actors read my dialogue after I tagged along with a friend to a theater group. That was so thrilling, it should have been a target for me. Another unknown goal was getting into a writers’ room. The seeds for that were planted in me by years of watching The Dick Van Dyke Show. They grew to fruition when I was invited to join a writers’ room for a Web series. I even got to be head writer the second year of the series. Writing persuasively? I was inspired by the great speeches of the 60s (Martin Luther King, Kennedy, etc.), but this was a hope, but an unlikely goal when I was younger. Nevertheless, I somehow wandered from the lab to into a new career, learning the ins and outs of communicating clearly and persuasively to audiences from high school to the World Economic Forum.
So a lot of things were checked off my list already. Saying “yes” to collaborating with a variety of people and doing things that pushed me out of my comfort zone has worked for me.
Nonetheless, I’ll offer my own bucket list from my perspective as a writer, and I hope a few resonate with you.
1. Really finish a passion project — A lot of my writing has been done as an employee. (Paying the bills.) This sometimes bleeds into the creative, speculative work, moving me toward a market focus. But what about the stories I need to tell? I’m happy to say that my work is moving more and more in that direction. And I’m making progress. Step one: Know what the passion projects are. (Some I fall in love with. Some reveal themselves in the writing.) Step two: Give them the time they need. Don’t let them fall to the bottom of the list. Step three: Get a good draft completed. Step four: Keep pushing until they become irresistible.
2. Write something for posterity or intended as a gift or to honor to someone - This came up almost every time I had a conversation with my cousin, who wrote comedy. His focus was on posterity, but that always felt too grand to me. When I began to write with the idea that work could be a gift for someone alive or a way to honor someone who was lost. I’ve completed a few, and others are higher on my priority list. (While all my passion projects are lengthy, these tend to be small, doable efforts.)
3. Get a reading - To hear your words spoken by others can be painful or marvelous. When I was a young writer, it was almost always painful. Sometimes because I’d never read the words out loud and heard how awkward they were. Sometimes because the reader had more enthusiasm than skill. Mostly because I was stuck on how the words “should” sound. Anything other than a perfect match to what was in my head disturbed me. Luckily, I got over that to the point where, if someone matches my inner voice now, I’m disappointed. I actually work to provide words worth interpreting in fresh ways.
4. Finish a large/small work - A lot of writers I know get stuck in one form and never try another. Even if it’s not obvious, the true value of your work may lie outside your comfort zone. In my own experience, I’ve seen stories come alive when I’ve reinterpreted them — novels as screenplays. Short plays as short stories. And more. Roger Kahn wrote in his book, Good Enough to Dream, about his dad at bat. A minor leaguer who only lacked the ability to hit home runs, his father switched around to bat left-handed for a game after his retirement. What was meant to be fun became a poignant moment when he sent the pitch soaring. The one tool he needed, hitting the long ball, wasn’t discovered until it was too late.
5. Connect with and say thank you to a writer you admire - Writing is a community with its own history and heroes. I grew up owing a debt to Melville and Shakespeare and Poe that I could only repay with my work. But I might have gotten the opportunity to thank Ray Bradbury or Paddy Chayefsky or Vonda McIntyre. I know now it would have mattered because I have had the chance to express my gratitude to other writers, and my moments with them have anchored my efforts in real and valuable ways.
6. Collaborate and/or mentor - My first attempt at collaboration was a disaster, but it taught me lifelong lessons I needed about tact and generosity. For me, even when projects don’t work out, I’ve found I gain a lot in terms of new perspectives and appreciation of skills. This is also true for mentoring, which has long been part of my practice. Enthusiasm rubs off. Questions teach. Diagnosing problems of another challenges me to look more closely at what I’m doing. Plus, writing means a lot more alone time than acting or playing music in a band. Collaborating and mentoring create community and friendships.
7. Write something that influences others or yourself - Persuasion is an essential element of speech writing, so I’ve been forced to think in terms of audience, reflecting on what people care about, what structures/phrasing/words are clear, emotional elements, providing entertaining experiences, and more. Especially when the stakes are high or the message isn’t welcome, this can push you to a new level of care and understanding in writing. I’m grateful to have been put into difficult real-world situations that have both improved my craft and forced me to empathize with people who are very different from myself. More recently, I’ve come to appreciate how the right projects can influence me. In particular, answering rude questions and looking for pivotal moments in my own life have opened up my writing and led me to a deeper understanding of myself.
8. Finish a poem worth memorizing - This is my own goal for 2022, and I might have included it under number 4 above, but the second part feels important. Taking something on that’s difficult and testing its value with a specific task goes further than testing the waters. For me, as a definite non-poet, this creates a goal that my intuition says is worth the time and effort.
9. Write something just for fun - I’ve always believed that most writing should be fun. It is possible to do joyless writing. I’ve taken on demanding tasks, needed by clients, that called more for discipline and professional dedication than fun. That happens when writing is a career. However, I’m happy to say I’m someone who mostly takes delight in writing, and not a writers who only enjoys having written. In the past couple of years, perhaps because of the challenges of Covid, I’ve found myself working with writers who’ve lost their zeal for writing. In most cases, something took it away — a relationship, health problems, financial pressures, or life events. Writing just for the joy of it — not to pay a bill or get published or please someone else — is both valid and vital.
10. Go on a pilgrimage for inspiration - To me, Grand Central Station is a temple. I love spending time there, soaking in the beauty, the people, the echoes, and the drama. Walking through Robert Frost’s house in Vermont provided another experience of space, as the poems I grew up with (he was a favorite of my mother and grandfather) settled into my spirit in new ways. And, of course, the people and events that are part of the journey to a location of meaning can delight, terrify, or shape your consciousness as a writer, as well. Sometimes pilgrimages are created by circumstances out of your control, but mostly they need to be planned and invested in. Selecting a destination and putting it onto your calendar (almost) guarantees new perspectives.
My original list had 25 items, and I discovered some I had (like attending Bread Loaf) spent a lot of years buried before they were realized. I also found that a lot of things that came to mind first like awards and contracts, were out of my control. I captured them anyway and made them prompts that help me to discover what I could add to a list.
What’s on your bucket list?
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