Collected notes #7
On having a writer friend, the abyss that is you, and what the Iranians deserve
Someone, somewhere: it’s time to pile on the wars. There’s not enough shit going on. We need some new crap to complement the old crap.
Every war is a disaster, but I find Iran to be especially tragic - more on that at the end of this letter.
So, Collected notes - short reintroduction for new subscribers: simply a selection of my best notes, in chronological order - but I elaborate, like what provoked a certain insight and how you can make practical use of it.
Sometimes they’re simple and easy to implement, sometimes they’re overly ambitious - but that’s by design. I believe that a lot of good thinking - and making - comes from impossible aspiration: wanting to get at something that’s out of reach.
It’s like ballet: you elongate your neck, arm, leg along an invisible, infinite line. It’s not just: ‘extend’. The body behaves differently if it reaches for the sky or something 10 meters away.
Let’s go:
2025-09-23
Forge at least one deeper relationship with another writer.
Eases the burden of loneliness that many writers struggle with
Fast-tracks solutions when running into problem areas
Share excitement as well as doubts
Make a point of supporting each other every step of the way
Set a schedule. Check in on each other once a week or twice a month
Be generous when offering ideas, and learn to let go of pride receiving them
If something looks like a good fit for a collaboration, that’s fine, but that’s not the goal - the point is sharing without anything to gain
When you hit those darker moments, this is your lifeline.
➝ Long story short: writers are your soulmates.
➝ Real world: It’s a competitive business.
It’s easy to look at fellow writers as competition - unless they’re far from where you are in your trajectory. But even if you’re going for the same audience, thinking of them as competitors is a waste of time.
If you’re meeting with a writer that you’re standing neck and neck with - you may even be competing about literally the same assignments - it’s hard to avoid just a tiny bit of measuring. But use it as fuel, as energy. Don’t get tense. Remember: it’s not you who decides which one of you who’ll get offers, it’s not you who decides which one of you will get the most reads.
The only thing that can change your position to the better, is you doing strong work. And who’s better to help you with that, than someone who’s having a similar experience, who’s on comparable projects?
And if you feel they’re a bit ahead of you, it’s actually better. Like a wise person once said: always make sure you’re the dumbest person in the room. Why? Because you always want to be challenged, you always want someone to say, ‘that’s good, but what if we do it like this?’ … and their proposal is actually better. That’s how you go from good to great.
Bonus: you get to work on letting go of your ego. No one ever did great work from a massive ego.
➝ Try this: follow writers on social media. Comment with authenticity, on subjects you care deeply about. If you’re a bit more social: attend writing seminars, retreats, industry events. Strike up conversations.
I’m the worst person to say this - I’m as lone wolf-y and hermit-like as they come - but it amazes me what simple social situations can lead to. You never know when two people might be perfectly timed for each other.
I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but if you aren’t already: get on Substack.
There’s a truly fascinating diversity of interests on here, but one thing really resonates throughout: passion. And when you’re around passionate people, you feed. Your own passion grows.
Find your tribe. There’s just so much to gain from it.
2025-09-26
Find that part of you that’s so ugly, so off-putting you can’t even admit it’s there. The aspect of yourself that’s so embarrassing, you’d literally die if anyone found out.
Look at it. Take a deep breath.
What you’re seeing is a human weakness.
And when it comes to this exact deficiency, this particular character flaw… you know everything there is to know.
Your psyche knows how to compensate for it, how to cover it up, how to hide from it, how to lie about it. You have its exact anatomy mapped out.
You may not know how to treat it, but you can describe it. Better than anyone. When it comes to this, you’re the world’s most renowned expert.
This is your story gold.
➝ Long story short: your pain is your wealth.
➝ Real world: this is not easy.
The taboo part of yourself can feel impossible to touch, even knowing no one else is ever going to see it. Not everyone is cut out to expose oneself at that level, or possibly by extent their family, their loved ones.
But it truly is gold. The details at your disposal will be layered. The depth of your knowledge will be vast. This is where you can speak with absolute authority. The fear, the adrenaline you get from just thinking about it will cross over to the reader. That’s true storytelling power.
I believe that as an author, an actor, a screenwriter, a filmmaker, any kind of artist, if you have the ambition to do deep, meaningful work, you have to go for the ugly. I’m sorry, but you have to.
But here’s the silver lining. Using your own pain for the purpose of mining stories can be cathartic. One way or another, it improves mental health. Because once you’ve done it, the pain is not as severe. The memory is still there, but it doesn’t insist on itself anymore.
And: the fact that darker thoughts or events can benefit you as a professional is really a blessing, a relief, a revelation. It’s a luxury! Very few occupations have that potential. Use it.
➝ Try this: as you’re looking into your own wounds and obsessions, try to find fictional parallells - things that are very close to, or thematically interchangeable with, your own experience. Unless you’ve given yourself the assignment to tell the exact truth - which might not always be the best way to tell a story - you can switch out anything.
It does not diminish the power of the story. On the contrary: a fictional version of something real, however thinly veiled, often creates a stronger impact - because it’s maximized for storytelling truth, not actual truth. And it protects you: the made up aspect will create a shield from which you can create more freely, without feeling too exposed.
A few years ago I wrote a screenplay based on a story by Swedish-Iranian filmmaker Nahid Persson Sarvestani, set in Iran during the 1979 revolution. It never materialized into a feature - at least not yet - but from my viewpoint it wasn’t because of narrative issues: Nahid’s story is powerful. The script follows a young woman falling in love, while her world is thrown into chaos by the revolution. She eventually gives birth to a daughter while incarcerated in the infamous Evin prison, where she endures decades of torture.
The story was based, in part, on Nahid’s own experience. Hearing about these events from a person who’s lived it was humbling. Growing up in a western country, being insulated in so many ways, the systemic nihilism of a hyper-oppressive regime such as Iran’s Islamic Republic just doesn’t make any sense. And the irony of it all, what I didn’t know before I worked on Nahid’s story: 1978-1979 was a revolution of the people, to overthrow the king: The Shah of Iran. As the Shah fled, the Iranian people thought they’d won.
And then - the revolution was stolen. Ayatollah Khomeini flew in and the Shia Muslim clergy took power.
The Iranian people fought to get rid of one sketchy dude, only for his replacement to be even worse. That’s a cruel, cruel fate.
Regardless of how complex Iran's situation is, these are facts: if you kidnap your own citizens and put them through a lifetime of torture in hellholes like Evin, as punishment for making a film, doing art, writing an article, or simply being related to someone who did, you’re a criminal. If you execute your own citizens, in public hangings in city squares, you’re a criminal. If you enrich yourself while committing such atrocities, you’re a criminal.
But facing these horrors, what does the Iranian people do? Not once, but again, and again, and again?
They protest. En masse. And - they do so peacefully.
Can you believe it?
The risks are immense. Heading out to protest could mean getting killed on the spot. If not death, imprisonment for life. Or, losing your job, getting black-listed.
Protesting could mean getting ripped from your family, your children, everything that is your life, for the rest of your life.
And still, they do it. Can we even fathom the desperation? The bravery?
I don’t see any other country on earth with an equally cruel regime, where the people repeatedly take to the streets in the thousands.
And I get why.
Faced with infinite cruelty, we tend to shrink. We are likely to retreat. We may go silent - because we want our children to have some kind of life.
The Iranians deserve our deepest respect for standing up to their oppressors. And as world citizens, we should help them. But when Donald Trump says he’ll take out the leadership so the people can take over, it doesn't seem realistic. There’s no organized opposition in Iran: those who’ve tried are dead or in prison. I’m sure the west will try to use Kurdish fighters as proxies, just as we did against ISIS. If so, I hope the Kurds get a better deal than last time.
Out of curiosity I looked up the median prize of a mid-range ballistic robot: 1-8 million US dollars. Number of ballistic robots launched by Iran only, in just a few days: 500.
The insane money thrown at destruction aside, I’m hoping this can be the beginning of the end of the Islamic Republic, and the start of some kind of freedom for the Iranian people. Because, my God, the Iranians have suffered enough.
Can you imagine how such a brave people will thrive, if they can only have the kind of freedom most of us take for granted.
Til next time,
/Jens