I mean—I want to write the most amazing book ever. I'm guessing you do too.
There's a readiness to conquer, an excitement for improving. That's the lion part of lionheart, right?
Which is why our next lionhearted trait is ambition. We are ambitious for excellence in our work.
Let's define it: Ambition is about pressing toward success and achievement, especially with the elements that we can control.
Healthy ambition looks a lot like that line used in so many good fitness challenges: "The only one you're trying to beat is yourself."
So, just to be clear, when I'm talking about ambition, I'm not saying to be ambitious about the things that are up to the people around us. Awards, huge pats on the back, and all other subjective things.
They're nice, and it's fine to strive for them. But the trick is that they don't always correlate with our best efforts. (And wanting them too hard can kinda burn up your heart.)
So, for this post, let's focus on what we actually do control.
Which is, frankly, a lot.
Our quality of work. The quality of our ideas. Choosing projects that stretch us in one way or another.
Writing faster. Writing better.
A richer conflict. A scene accomplishing more purposes. Stronger subplots. Stellar structure.
Working hard and aiming high: that's what we do.
Mmmm. Gets my writerly juices fizzing.
But—if you're reading this and thinking, that used to be me, maybe, but right now, not so much—
I get it.
Maybe you're feeling burned out. Or maybe it's not even that dramatic: you just feel like your ambition has gone missing.
If that sounds like you (or if you'd just like to give your ambitions a good stir), try this:
1) Double check your circumstances.
I know. I've been talking about this a ton lately.
Those usually aren't good times for leaping.
Sometimes, when the rest of life is especially hard, the ambitious response actually looks like: showing up for my writing every day, even in really small ways.
That's super ambitious!! Showing up during hard times? That's huge. You don't need to add some big achievement on top of that.
Focus on smaller achievements. Thumbnail-sized ones.
Maybe just bringing your attention back to the work. Or journaling a certain number of pages a day. (Say, three). Or reading fiction, a chapter a day.
Ambition can be redefined.
Heather Sellers writes in Chapter after Chapter about how we writers need to "cycle through standards."
She says, "When you're stuck or stranded or bored with your book, lower your standards. Slouch your way through it. When you're writing high and hard and strong and solid, raise your standards."
I fought this idea for a long time (and kept burning myself out, ha ha). Now I realize how incredibly wise it is.
If your circumstances are going nuts, or if you're in the middle of a big transition, it's time for smaller ambitions.
Don't worry: when the sky clears, you can let it all out and shoot for the moon.
For now, small successes are plenty.
(And yes, I'm totally preaching to myself on this one.)
2) Double check your fuel.
Okay, a cheesy metaphor so we're all good with this point:
You can have the flashiest, reddest, raciest car there is, but if it's out of gas, then even I can run faster.
All engines require fuel, and our creative machine is no different.
Sometimes your life circumstances are okay, but there's some part of your mental/creative fuel that you just haven't been getting for a while.
Take a second to self-diagnose:
Or fall into a pile of really excellent movies, the kind that stir your desire to tell stories? (For a while, I would watch Finding Neverland, Peter Pan, and Alice in Wonderland, every time I felt my story engine faltering.)
Or maybe you need to stir your creativity by playing in other ways.
What does it look like, to really recharge your creativity and give your brain the space it needs to dream up stories?
3) Double check the kind of project you're working on.
If you're good with your circumstances, and if you're creatively fueled, then there's still something else to try.
Get really still and quiet and then think about your story.
Not from a frantic point of view, or a burned out & done with it point of view.
But think about the story or the work itself, and especially what drew you to it.
Have you veered off the path that you loved? Are you working in a format, a form, or a genre that you don't enjoy? Maybe the characters aren't the ones that you want to write about.
Is there a crushing deadline that has dampened the thrill of ambition? (Deadlines can be the perfect spurs or the perfect smothers. Double check yours and revise it if it isn't working!)
I tried it once on a whim, and I was shocked at the results. So give it a try, especially if you've felt less than inspired lately.
It's pretty simple: He has you write down everything you love in a book, in a story. Go crazy. Write it all down.
Nothing is too small or too big. You just want to list everything that gets your heart beating faster when you're reading.
And when you've filled out everything, make a second list.
This time, it's everything that you can't stand in a story. Anything that dries up your enthusiasm as a reader or viewer.
What makes you want to chuck a novel across the room? And warn all your friends away from it?
Write all that stuff down. Alllllllll of it. Every single story-esque thing that gets on your nerves.
And then, you get to sit back and review your lists. (Baty calls them the two Magna Cartas.)
The whole point is: write a book that's got a lot of stuff from the first list! And nothing from the second.
Pretty simple, right? Straightforward?
Can I tell you a mortifying secret?
When I did this with my first novel, I was blown away to see that I was writing a lot of stuff from my second list, and very little from my first.
What?! How did that even happen?
(I still don't know! And actually, Baty says the same thing happened to him, so... it's definitely possible.)
I instantly made the changes, throwing out every hateful thing that had crept into my story.
Baty writes, "Write your joy, and good things will follow."
YEP. I was much happier after I decided to intentionally write toward everything that I most enjoyed.
So try that. Make sure that your material isn't somehow thwarting you.
4) Give yourself a fun challenge.
If everything else is fine, but you still feel a little lackluster, then maybe it's time for a lighthearted challenge?
Not something crushing. Just a friendly prompt to stir the juices and kickstart a little magic.
Or maybe give yourself a writing exercise program, and explode your sense of storymaking that way.
Just for fun.
And watch your ambition rise.