We all have what we consider to be strengths and shortcomings—luckily, misfits have the advantage of transforming their shortcomings into creative strengths.

To be quite honest, I don’t believe in shortcomings—every personality trait we have distinguishes us from the rest of the pack—they’re only shortcomings if that’s how we look at them. More times than not, what we consider shortcomings, others find endearing, so the fact is we should too.

For example, I’m anti-social, to the point where others might consider my lifestyle to be quite dull. This used to make me feel self-conscious, because when I’d bump into friends who were busy in school, or who’d go out on weekends or on vacations, I felt like what I had to catch them up on was less than colorful. I then went on a 5-year escapade of social adventures that ultimately caused me to lose touch with who I really am… but hey, I always had something exciting to talk about! It turned out though, that what I had to say was only exciting to others, and not to me.

The truth is, I enjoy my little bubble, and it’s in this little bubble I’m able to do what I enjoy most: write. I’ve unleashed my inner nerd, and in doing so I’m able to create the life I’ve always wanted, and spend time getting to know other writers and helping them do the same.

Your shortcomings don’t have to be shortcomings—you can use them to your advantage.

Your Misfits Assignment: Compliment Your Shortcomings
Make a list of what you consider to be your shortcomings. Beside each one, consider how they can be used to benefit your creativity.

Are you “too quiet”? Consider how much more perceptive to detail you are than those who blather on endlessly—you can use being quiet as a way to readily absorb what’s around you, and use your attention to detail to better connect with your craft.

You can now take your shortcomings and make them unique qualities that help you to stand out, so when a potential freelance job comes up that you’d be perfect for, you’ll be able to apply with confidence and proof that you’re the misfit for the job.

I’m working on the third draft of my screenplay In Her Dreams, and while I write, the word I’m keeping in mind is blend.

Each scene in your screenplay has to stand on its own two feet, but they also need to blend to create one coherant, unified storyline. This sounds intimidating, but by keeping in mind the word blend while you’re writing, it alleviates complication.

In our lives, we take part in two storylines that blend into one. We are in an Outside/Action story, and an Inside/Emotional story, and one always impacts the other; both, no matter how much they conflict with each other, are always intertwined.

In knowing our characters as well as we know ourselves, when we create our screenplay’s Outside/Action story, we’ll be able to fluently blend our characters’ internal challenges and struggles into the story. While we try to avoid conflict in our personal lives, the more conflict our characters experience in our screenplay, the better (especially when two characters are experiencing the same Outside/Action story—because of their differing personal history, it’s a great way to build tension and create realistic conflict).

It is how we blend our character’s internal reactions with the external challenges they face that showcases their growth. This is my favorite part of the process, because it’s the way we humanize our characters so that our viewers will be able to connect and grow along with them. There’s that one movie we all have where no matter how many times we watch it, we finish watching it with an even better feeling than before. Use that movie as your guide, so the screenplay you’re writing will give your future viewers the same feeling of satisfaction.

As you continue throughout the writing process and keep this one word in mind, you’ll find the process will become more fluent. Plot, structure, conflict, characterization… blend.

Like you, my opinion of Valentine’s Day has been sculpted by previous experiences. My disclaimer: though at times I may seem bitter and jaded, I can be excruciatingly romantic, given the right circumstances. Even if I clam up at a compliment or gag at a nauseatingly sweet comment or gesture, on the inside-I’m total mush.

When I was growing up, my family didn’t celebrate any pagan holidays (which is pretty much all of them) because of their religious beliefs. Like any sort of textbook study in reverse psychology, this only caused me to be more fascinated. I understood all the history and meaning behind the holiday traditions and celebrations, and I didn’t care how ungodly it was: those pagans sure knew how to have FUN!

Elementary school was the best. This was a time when sheer glee was the default mental state preceding any holiday, before it was replaced with things like expectations, guilt, and stress. Like every other kid, I would gladly celebrate any break in the monotony of typical school-work. There was the anticipated afternoon party, when everyone handed out their generic, manufactured, mini-cards filled with predetermined affection and then there were treats, as far as the eye could see. I was the only kid in the class sneaking cinnamon hearts and delicately placing them on my tongue, as to not get any telling red stains on my fingertips. Those contraband party goodies- sugar never tasted so sweet.

I was shyly appreciative getting cards from the other kids. Even though they knew I didn’t celebrate, and even though they knew I had nothing for them in return, they awkwardly tried to include me. I would admire and re-read my bagful of little cards on my bus ride home, studying them long enough I could commit them to memory because I knew as soon as I walked in the door my special little cards would be tossed in trash. No explanation required; it was a foregone conclusion.

Since the first grade, my dating life has been referred to by some of my closest friends as “dodging bullets”. I haven’t made too many great choices in my life, when it comes to men. I’m usually too idealistic for my own good. I read too many classics and watched too many period films. When I was in love, it was always forever, and when I wasn’t, it was never. I’ve since learned the more subtle shades of grey.

In fifth grade, I had sort of paired up with this kid, Ian. We were “going out,” even though “going out” never meant actually going anywhere. Obviously, I wasn’t allowed to “go out”. Ian was pretty cute and seemed like an ordinary, genuinely nice boy. At the time, we were both sitting on the fringes of being popular. Every girl had a crush on the most popular boy, Don, but I figured Ian was more realistic. Plus, I already had him. Don had barely said five words to me all year.

February 14, 1985, on the playground, there was a bunch of commotion and a pack of girls breathlessly ran up to me sputtering and shrieking, “Oh my God!! Don wants to go out with you!!!” Needless to say, I was shocked. My loyalty and disappointment equally jabbed in me in the throat, “But I’m going out with Ian.”

“We already asked Ian! He said it’s OKAY!!!” Well, then, that settled it. If Ian said it was okay, I certainly didn’t need to feel bad. So I shrugged and said, “Okay,” but my nerves were burning me up, from the inside out. Just like that, in a bittersweet transaction, I had been traded away and I was now going out with the most popular boy in school. We didn’t go out, but we did sit in the hallway, on the floor together, drawing. That was pretty romantic.

With my early and inevitable inclination to all things pagan, I’ll admit, I enjoy holidays. I love having a special someone to celebrate because it gives me a chance to get my Martha on. I didn’t have the chance to enjoy that stuff while it was fun and simple in childhood. One year, when I was SO in love, I spent weeks before Valentine’s Day laboring over a beautiful handmade leather-bound book. I filled its pages with dozens of our shared emails transcribed in my flowery penmanship, the history of the holiday, complete with pen and ink drawings of Cupid, and charming quotes of children answering the simple question, “what is love?” Things like, “Love is… when you want to share your French fries.”

My painstaking, tedious project was met with (expected) awe. Then it was my turn. I was presented with a small box. Small boxes can get a gal pretty excited. However, inside this small box was the ugliest watch I had ever seen. He eagerly awaited my response as I tried not to show my disappointment. He said, “I hope you like it. As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.” I managed to squeak out, “Oh, wow. Cool. Thanks.” After mulling over the “as soon as I saw it, I thought of you” comment, I realized this guy didn’t know me at all. I’m not lazy about my affections and I’m not interested in anyone who is.

My perfect Valentine still eludes me, though 1985 was pretty close. I like eating takeout or preparing a nice meal at home. I like roses, but prefer tulips. I like candles, sexy music and a good bottle of wine. I like homemade cards and heartfelt, thoughtful gifts. I like love and love making fond memories. One of my most amusing Valentines, thus far, involved my to-die-for Flourless Chocolate Cake and a romp that ended in the utter destruction of my antique bed. It wasn’t love, but it was mutual like and fun, and there is something to be said for a naked man, gentleman enough to try and fix the bed.

What is your most memorable Valentine?

If you’re anything like me, you’re behind on where you want to be in pretty much every aspect of your life: you’re hanging on by the skin of your teeth at work, your home is a complete mess (where is that smell coming from?), and your inbox is overflowing with e-mails you still need to reply to (from last year). Your desk has been taken over by scraps of paper, post-its, lists of lists about lists, and your creative projects have more dust on them than your duster itself. You’re surrounded by piles that your cat seems to be enjoying—you haven’t seen him in three days—and you’re to the point where you wish you could hide just as easily.

You could throw in the towel, but let’s face it, you don’t have a clean one to throw. So the question is: where do you go from here?

Let’s face the obvious: the whole reason we’re in this position is because we keep procrastinating. The more we procrastinate, the more piles appear.

If procrastinating were an Olympic sport, we’d be the most successful people on the planet. We’d have our own Wheaties box. But we’re not, and we don’t, because we’re procrastinating on the wrong things. We’re currently procrastinating on the things we want to accomplish the most, in order to maintain the aspects of our lives we care about the least. Huh?

We have to start procrastinating on the right things.
What are the right things? It depends on your priorities, but the things we should be procrastinating on are those tasks that have the least impact on our future accomplishments. For example, I hate (and I mean hate) that I currently have to body slam my bathroom door open just to use it, because my laundry has taken over what little floor space I have. But, if I was doing laundry right now, I wouldn’t be able to write this fabulous, insightful, ridiculously ridiculous blog post for our fine misfits, so the socks will have to wait.

We have to continue procrastinating on what doesn’t fulfill us, until it does.
When I blog, and when I write, I feel fulfilled, which gives me the energy later on to catch up on the mundane, mindrotting crap we have to do as adults. As you fulfill more and more of what you want to accomplish as a creative misfit, the mundane, mindrotting crap won’t be as big of a deal, because you won’t feel as if everything hinges on whether your exterior life is completely in order. You will be in order on the inside, and this will eventually spill into the rest of your life. Soon, after a great day of working on your creative projects, you’ll walk into your kitchen and do your dishes without even thinking, as opposed to how you feel when you walk in now: you end up with the sudden urge to draw a bath and take the toaster in with you.

We have to procrastinate because if we didn’t, we’d never accomplish anything.
In order to begin sorting through our piles, and accomplishing our creative goals, we’re going to have to take our misfit-itis to the next level. We have to switch gears and begin procrastinating on the right things, such as:

• What others expect of us.
• What society expects of us.
• What we think we’re supposed to expect of ourselves.

We need to fulfill who we are and what is important to us, otherwise, our exterior lives will always conflict with our internal wellbeing.

Yes, we have to work at a not-so-fulfilling job at the moment to pay our bills. Yes, personal hygiene is important. Yes, feeding ourselves does come in handy. But don’t you want to go into work with the confidence in knowing that it’s a stepping stone toward your real career? Don’t you want to want to shower? Don’t you want to enjoy your meal sans the constant knot in your stomach?

I thought so.

As creatives, there’s nothing quite like those moments where we annoy ourselves into a frenzy.

I mean, it’s not like we can storm out on ourselves and slam the door dramatically to prove our point, or ignore our own phone calls, or break up with ourselves.

So when we need clarity, how do we step away from ourselves long enough to regain our creative focus (in a way that doesn’t involve alcohol)?

It’s not me, it’s… me.
First of all, admit you’re weird. It’s okay to be weird. What stifles our creativity the most is the barrier between how we want our lives to be, and how society says they should be. We always feel we’re on the sidelines, when in fact, we’re in the lead.

Let yourself be aimless.
Because of the daily grind we have to go through to pay our bills until our creative projects become our main source of income, the structure we have to maintain for survival keeps our minds in analytical mode for way longer than they should be. That’s why during our time off, we feel stuck and frustrated, and our creative projects begin collecting dust.

Dedicate a small amount of time each day to letting your mind wander—watch a movie you think is ingenious, listen to music that matches the tone of your creative project—doing so will get you into the habit of mentally brewing your creativity for when it’s time to sit down and work.

Learn the art of kicking your own ass.
When all else fails, drag your ass out of bed, and as soon as you feel the urge to have yet another mediocre day where you barely accomplish anything, yell at yourself in the mirror if you have to. Swear. Stomp around. Throw the stupid candle holder that keeps tipping over off your front porch once and for all. Whatever it is that’s eating you up and stifling your creativity, get it out of your system! Kids have hissy fits all the time and their well-being isn’t questioned, why should ours?

Eventually, it will get easier, and your creativity will become more fluent. I promise.