You. Yes, you. The one with notebooks full of snippets, bits n' bobs of nice words, characters, plot lines rolling about in your skull.
So, you’re standing at the edge of the writing world — heart full, hands unsure. You’ve got the spark. Maybe even a brilliant idea or a dozen, and perhaps even a quiet ache at the pit of your gut because you know there’s something in you waiting to be written— but you’re not quite sure how to begin.
I remember that feeling. It’s not hesitation; it’s frozen passion. And it means you care deeply— which is already a good sign that you very well might write something worth reading.
What follows is not a list of tips. Just tips! Heaven preserve us from any more RULES. Just some tidbits I wish someone had whispered in my ear when I was where you are now (and even some tips very generous people literally did.) Think of these as a series of invitations: to risk, to observe, to refine, to endure. Writing is less like architecture than it is like gardening: full of dirt, revision, quiet growth, and the occasional, inexplicable blossom.
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1. Write for Yourself
You are your first reader. Always. If you're not excited, curious, or emotionally invested in what you're writing, it’s unlikely anyone else will be. Someone will always criticize your work (or, ya know, a lot of other things like your face or your character or the way you compost or whatever because the internet can be a cesspool). So! Please yourself. Forget market trends and imagined critics. Forget that grouchy English teacher who told you you’d never amount to anything!
The number of times I followed a rabbit hole of curiosity and ended up with a new draft. The number of pies that started from simple questions that became research trips to literal Siberia. The pandemic poetry class and a love of Greek mythology that birthed a manuscript. Get curious. Geek out and get to work.
Write the book you’d stay up all night reading. That’s where your truest voice will emerge from, find its strength and very likely show you things you never even knew to be possible within you.
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2. Start Ugly. Start Scared. Just Start.
Perfection is a myth that will keep you stuck.
Remember: Perfectionism has nothing to do with excellence, high standards, or healthy achievement or growth. Perfectionism is a deeply-rooted defensive mechanism rooted in fear and fueled by shame. https://brenebrown.com/art/tgoi-perfectionism/
Dr. Brene Brown has researched perfectionism extensively and has stated:
“Perfectionism is a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of blame, judgement, and shame.”
All perfectionism does is keep you stuck. It also makes you miserable and often, quite insufferably judgmental of others which gets you uninvited to parties.
All to say: write your sh*tty, imperfect thing.
Don’t wait until you’re “ready” or until everything is perfectly mapped out. Don’t wait for a good hair day or for inspiration to strike. Don’t wait for anything. Perfection never arrives. Conditions will never will be ideal.
Sh*tty First Drafts are allowed to be wild, rough, incoherent, even embarrassing. They’re meant to be. That’s why they’re not called Genius First Drafts. I know someone that calls them “Fertilizer Ideas.” I love this! Because sure fertilizer stinks, but it makes things grow! Think of first attempts as sketches, not sculptures. Think of them as the first horrendous stumble-through of the play you’re rehearsing (you know the one where someone broke a toe, props went missing, we accidentally skipped 34 pages. A disaster. But a start!) The first draft is allowed to be chaotic, overwritten, full of clichés or clunky metaphors. It’s supposed to be. Your only job at that stage is to get the words out of your head and onto the page. The CRAFT comes later — in the revision.
3. Create a Routine That Respects Your Energy
You don’t have to write at 5 AM. Or every day. Or by candlelight. Or in a leather-bound journal with a quill. What matters is that you show up consistently in a way that supports your life — not disrupts it.
Are you sharpest at night? Carve out 30 minutes after dinner. Care-taking? Steal 15 minutes during breaks, meal, naptime.
You don’t have to write at 5 AM. Or every day. Or by candlelight. Or in a leather-bound journal with a quill. What matters is that you show up consistently in a way that supports your life — not disrupts it.
Are you sharpest at night? Carve out 30 minutes after dinner. Care-taking? Steal 15 minutes during breaks, meal, naptime.
Your writing rhythm should support your life, not fight it. Find what works for you and truly honor the ritual the way you would meet any other part of your needs, your wellbeing.
4. Gracefully Accept Rejection
When you start offering your work, expect rejection. Rejection is not a verdict on your worth — it’s a rite of passage. Every author you admire has been rejected (often many times over). It stings, yes. But it also toughens you, teaches you resilience, and sometimes, if you’re open to it, gives you clues on how to grow. Don't let a "no" from someone else become a "no" from you.
Rejection is a human experience that can be very stressful and unpleasant. That is why many people do anything they can to avoid it. But just like many stressful and unpleasant things, the more you accept the sensations, allow the feelings of discomfort to move through you like a wave that WILL break and ebb should you allow it to follow nature’s course, bearing it becomes much more, well, bearable!
We feel stressed when we assume an outside circumstance is beyond our ability to cope. Unpredictability, uncontrollability, overwhelm, self-worth being challenged. Give yourself the gift of these experiences. They breed true maturity.
So.
Be business-like about submitting your work.
Keep track of who you've sent out pieces to and file feedback, especially positive comments.
When a story or poem is rejected, just send it to the next person on your list; keep going until no options remain.
After you've finished a piece, start something new. Put the old one aside for now.
Remember that plenty of novelists have two or three unpublished manuscripts under the bed.
Rejection is a human experience that can be very stressful and unpleasant. That is why many people do anything they can to avoid it. But just like many stressful and unpleasant things, the more you accept the sensations, allow the feelings of discomfort to move through you like a wave that WILL break and ebb should you allow it to follow nature’s course, bearing it becomes much more, well, bearable!
We feel stressed when we assume an outside circumstance is beyond our ability to cope. Unpredictability, uncontrollability, overwhelm, self-worth being challenged. Give yourself the gift of these experiences. They breed true maturity.
So.
Be business-like about submitting your work.
Keep track of who you've sent out pieces to and file feedback, especially positive comments.
When a story or poem is rejected, just send it to the next person on your list; keep going until no options remain.
After you've finished a piece, start something new. Put the old one aside for now.
Remember that plenty of novelists have two or three unpublished manuscripts under the bed.
5. Don't Give Up
You will doubt yourself.
You will doubt yourself.
You will wonder if it’s worth it.
You will be tempted to quit — maybe more than once.
Don’t. Keep going.
Don’t. Keep going.
Take breaks, revise your goals, let the draft sit if needed — but don’t let self-doubt have the last word. The world needs your stories. More importantly, you need your stories.
Don't give up because you're not some jerk’s definition of “successful.” Just keep creating. Unapologetically and with all your heart.
Also? You never know what will happen later in life or even after you are dead. A historian in times to come may discover your diary and recognize its unique insight into twenty-first-century life. A poem you wrote many years ago may suddenly appeal to someone and be published or get chosen in a competition. A novel that was rejected 30 times might get dusted down and see the light of day many, many years after you first wrote it. Plenty of good novels don't get published and lots of indifferent ones do. Despite what the world wants us to believe, life is not a meritocracy, and it certainly isn't fair.
Don't get mad about it. I mean, or do. Punch a pillow or two. Eat your feelings. But then move on.
Keep going, live in hope and be open to whatever happens— and more crucially, whatever could happen that you might not even have the capacity to conceive of yet.
6. You are a Writer Because You Write
Not because you’re published. Not because someone approves. Not because you have an agent or book deal. Not because your sentences are flawless.
You are a writer because you sit down, listen to your thoughts, and try to shape them into something meaningful. Or, in a more Eastern approach to creation: you trust that your work is out there, existing, and your job is to take away everything that is NOT the art. Remove the marble that David is trapped within.
That is the work. That is the art.
You don’t need anyone’s permission to begin — but if it helps, let this be it.
Start where you are. Use the voice you have. Write the thing that won’t leave you alone.
I’m cheering you on, always.
Not because you’re published. Not because someone approves. Not because you have an agent or book deal. Not because your sentences are flawless.
You are a writer because you sit down, listen to your thoughts, and try to shape them into something meaningful. Or, in a more Eastern approach to creation: you trust that your work is out there, existing, and your job is to take away everything that is NOT the art. Remove the marble that David is trapped within.
That is the work. That is the art.
You don’t need anyone’s permission to begin — but if it helps, let this be it.
Start where you are. Use the voice you have. Write the thing that won’t leave you alone.
I’m cheering you on, always.