Ratika Deshpande
In the beginning, it makes sense that we look to other writers to guide us. We’re navigating a new skill, which is both an art and a craft, something that is taught but is also thought to be unteachable in some ways. So we read essays and memoirs and interviews, hoping to learn from those who have come before us.
And this exploration pays off. We might discover that the most common writing advice—write first thing in the morning, do morning pages, leave in the middle of a sentence so that you can pick up from where you left the next day—actually does not work for us. (Or that it does!)
However, simply reading about the craft doesn’t lead to improvement. We have to sit down and write.
Often, when we do that, we find that writing is hard. So we open a new tab and go looking for a method that will make it easier. And that is a good thing to do, to some extent. It’s always helpful to reflect on what’s working and what’s not, so that we can focus on telling the stories we want to.
But here’s the catch: writing is hard. The principle “read a lot and write a lot” is the core, but it’s not specific and therefore not actionable. What I’ve found over years of reading about writing is that the One True Method of writing doesn’t actually exist. We all have to find something that works for us. And what works for us today might not work for us a few months later.
We might get lost in the sea of methods in our search, especially as beginners, as those returning to the craft, or as those trying to overcome doubt and resistance. And so, when the priority is to get words down, we must ask ourselves, “Does this help me write?”
Some writers have specific, elaborate routines. Others simply don’t have the time, so they write whenever they have the chance, even if it means writing only 2 sentences at a time.
In either case, what they do is write. They have asked themselves, even if unconsciously, “Does this help me write?” and then chosen the method/process/tool that does.
This entails understanding another crucial principle of the process: to get the writing done. As countless others have said before: once it exists, you can make it better. The search for a presumably “better” method prevents us from writing in the first place. I know that all the hours I’ve spent reading about writers’ methods I could have instead spent on writing, however imperfectly. The chase for a better method is actually running away from hard work. It’s perfectionism holding you in your grip.
The problems of writing are many; we have to keep adjusting. The best thing we can do is to work with what we have right now, with the understanding that writing is hard and that effort is not a sign of our process being wrong but rather the very nature of the art we’re practicing.
So the next time you look at a piece of advice (including this one), ask: “Does this help me write? Does this help me fill a blank page, get my story out from my head into the world?” If the answer is yes, take it and use it, and, if the answer is no, toss it and write anyway.
And remember, this is a different question from “Does this help me write well?” That will need more experimentation, more reading, more research perhaps (if that’s your area), more reflection. But, most importantly, that too will need more writing. To write well, we must first write, otherwise we make the mistake of thinking that our first attempt at saying something or telling a story should be good, complete, final.
And that is a belief that never helps us to write.
Ratika Deshpande is a writer from India. Her work has appeared in Authors Publish, Reactor Magazine, the Brevity Blog, and other platforms.
