writing

18 of the Best Pieces of Writing Advice

Once the words leave your body and exist on the page, they are no longer yours.

This piece of wisdom came from my high school creative writing teacher who taught me a lot about how to edit my own work. 

Having a thick skin, he explained, would be crucial to my development as a writer. It means you’re confident, able to separate yourself from the work you’ve put forth, and understand you won’t please everyone all the time.

It’s a learned skill, one you have to practice over and over again. It means you need to give yourself permission to step back and see the writing objectively. The hard work of bringing it forth has been done. Next comes refinement.

I've held onto this advice throughout my writing career, and was curious to know what other advice fellow writers have received. I posed the question to the Eat This Poem community, who, unsurprisingly, were filled to the brim with encouraging words for how to write better.

1. Simplify your writing. One word is better than two.

—Dina Honke (website | twitter)

2. Some of the best writing advice I've ever received came from Ann Friedman while on a retreat in Guatemala and that is to write without an audience in mind.

It's quite hard to adhere to, but it's crucial, at least at the beginning of the process when ideas are still getting out of your head.

—Kelly Barrett (website | twitter)

3. “Write as if everyone you know is dead.” -Amy Bloom.

It's morbid, but effective for getting me to write more freely, uninhibited.

—Amy Caputa

4. Write first, edit later. Which essentially means don't bother about improving your work while writing itself, let the ideas flow.

Once you are done with writing, leave the doc for a day or so and come back later to edit it. This will make you write much faster.

—Anoop Chawla (website | twitter)

5. An editor told me that once I have a draft, leave it alone—don't look at it, don't edit, do nothing to it and let it simmer for at least a month if you can, and the longer the better.

He said that the time apart will lend clarity to the piece, similar to what absence can do for lovers.

—Lima Charlie

6. From the book, The Right To Write, I loved the advice of letting the story flow through the writer and not be so hung up on "I". A little detachment goes a long way to better writing.

—Kurt Jacobson (website | twitter)

7. Once when an editor needed to cut my article for space, she asked me, "Which parts are you married to?" She was respecting what I believed needed to be kept in the article and wouldn't cut those parts.

It's a good idea to know the answer to that question before you submit your article for publication. It's an even better idea to take a good look at your article and cut the parts "you're not married to" before you submit to decide if they are even necessary to include.

More succinct writing is usually better. Think Hemingway.

—Susan Miller (twitter)

18 Best Pieces of Writing Advice

8. "Write what you DON'T know, in order to tap into your own imagination, find your creative singular voice."

This advice perhaps best applies to writers of fiction and creative nonfiction. Otherwise you're just recounting facts or reporting what others believe to be true.

—Julie M.

9. From my old English teacher—"It's all about clarity. Keep things simple for your readers. This should be the foundation."

Also, you've got to learn the rules before you can break them.

—Lauren Orlina (twitter)

10. Believe in yourself.

—Larissa Saco

11. Always write first. Write every day, every morning when you first get up. Make coffee, sit down and write. Don't check email, don't dig into work, don't tend your people and animals that need tending (so wake up earlier!).

Habit becomes practice - and words WILL come. If you can't think of what to write, or your project isn't getting going, write something else. Write a short story. Write a letter to your grandma. Write a poem. JUST WRITE.

Also, write when you write, then edit. Don't edit as you go along, it will bog you down. Get the words out and clean them up later. Your writing will be cleaner and brighter for it.

—Jessie Voigts (website | twitter)

12. During a time I needed to read these words, I read them deeply. Now it's forever a reminder when I need it:

"You just go on your nerve. If someone’s chasing you down the street with a knife you just run, you don’t turn around and shout, 'Give it up! I was a track star for Mineola Prep.' That’s for the writing poems part."
-Frank O'Hara, Personism: A Manifesto 

Now, this is how I choose to write.

—Crystal Rivera (website)

13. Write.

—Mike Mahaffey (website)

14. Write the book you want to read.

—Caryn Wille (twitter)

15. Don't be afraid of "word vomiting." Get your thoughts down first and edit later. Even when you think you're not making sense, it's better than staring at a blank page.

Don't overthink your thoughts and judge your own words. Just sit, breathe, drink tea and write.

—Lu Ann Pannunzio (website | twitter)

16. Do it afraid.

—Nicole Mackey (website | twitter)

17. Imagine no one will ever read your words. I'd never write half the stuff I scribble if I thought anyone would read it.

—Deleonora Abel (twitter)

18. I received two really good pieces of writing advice at two very different times in my life.

The first was during my freshman year of college when I was all about using fifty-cent words and phrasing things in the most convoluted way possible.

A professor told me that she couldn't see through the window I'd fogged up—when I wrote in that manner, it was difficult for my readers to understand what I wanted them to understand.

She told me that good writing is a crystal clear window into the author's thoughts. Stayed with me forever.

The second piece of writing advice was given to me much, much later, sometime when I was in graduate school for my MFA in creative writing (see?! That first piece of advice was crucial!).

I don't remember who specifically told me this, but I do remember learning that I ought to be as surprised as my characters by the unfolding of the story.

As writers, we're in the business of discovery—and in order to craft a convincing discovery, we need to write from a place of genuine unearthing.

We need to lose control, let go of the plan.

—Helen McLaughlin (website | twitter)

One secret to finding more time to write

Six months pregnant may not have been the best time to subscribe to the New Yorker. I was excited, though, and when the first few editions arrived I read them in the evening before bed, and even aloud as Andrew occasionally rubbed my feet. It felt like bliss. Then I had a baby, and my dreams of keeping a contained, almost non-existent magazine pile were dashed.

Having a baby certainly changes the amount of productive time you have in a given day. Also, your definition of productive changes from something like "I put together a presentation for work!" to "I put together a load of laundry... that's washed, but still needs to be transferred to the dryer!" 

Some might find this frustrating. And yes, I've had my moments, but in some ways it makes my spare time all the more valuable. I must be extra picky with how to spend my hours. This isn't a new concept to me, though.

As a proud introvert, I've long felt my energy stores dwindle at the expense of small talk, mundane tasks, or non-valuable social activities like loud cocktail hours. It's who I am, and I know it and love it. It means I'm less giving of my time, which may seem selfish to non-introverts or someone who doesn't know me personally, but if I'm not going to get value out of an experience, or if I'm going to be forced into social situations void of meaning, count me out.

So when I have free time nowadays, which mainly consists of brief windows , I act fast. Laundry in the dryer? Folded. Email in my inbox? Answered. Teeth brushed? Check. Blog post drafted? Done.

Sometimes, though, I just take a nap.

Of course, you don't need to have a baby in order to learn this kind of lesson, but it does help.

Finding time to write has required a new strategy, too. 

Many people ask me how I do it, and how I've done it. How do you start and finish writing projects and have a full-time job, and have a new baby?

The short answer is, I write in the margins.

I've always loved taking notes. A fresh notebook full of possibilities. My very first notebook was bright pink with blue lined pages and a thick, silver spine. It served as my personal journal for a time, and the place I recorded silly songs and poems I made up on our family vacations. I still have it, actually, buried in a box in storage.

In college I had a notebook for every class, to keep my notes organized.

Today I have a hardback moleskine where I write one sentence a day in an effort to streamline my journaling efforts, and a lovely baby book I discovered, that will last until Henry turns 18.

I also take copious digital notes. The first draft of this post, in fact, was typed in the middle of the night on my cell phone.

You see, I wasn't sitting at my desk with a cup of tea, or outside on a bench in the lovely warm weather. I was awake at four in the morning, pumping milk for my newborn son. This is writing in real life, and sometimes it's the only way to get things done.

Writing in the margins is about taking advantage of small windows of time we have every day and getting some words down, even if they're not very good ones.

So when someone asks me how I do it, I tell them a little adds up to a whole lot. And I tell them, above all else, that they must keep writing, even if it means finding new ways to do so.

At so many points in my life, writing was the first to go. At first, it seems like an easy thing to rid yourself of. But the work of writing is a lifelong vocation, one that never leaves us even when we move from job to job, or have a baby, or endure periods of not writing. 

Sometimes, we need a little nudge to get moving again. If this sounds like you, my new e-course might be just the thing. I'll send one encouraging assignment over the span of six days, and by the end of the week, you'll have a clearer sense of focus and renewed enthusiasm for a writing project you've been aching to work on.

What about you? We all fit writing into our lives differently, and I'd love to hear about your own approach. Leave a comment and let me know what's working for you! 

[Book Ends] What a manicure has to do with cookbook writing

Risotto Cakes.jpg

Book Ends is an occasional series where I share insights about the cookbook writing process. For even more, subscribe to my newsletter.

Four hours after sending the finished manuscript to my editor, I walked to the little nail place in my neighborhood for a manicure and pedicure. Before Henry was born, pedicures were something of a regular indulgence for me. Manicures, less so, mostly because of cooking. It never seems worthwhile to bother with a manicure when I cook so much. 

This week, on the other hand, was different. For the past eight weeks the last major writing push was underway, including wrangling 50+ recipe testers to help (more on that later). This meant most nights included something from the cookbook for dinner. It also meant I kept a ruler on the counter to provide accurate measurements, and my small measuring spoons were used consistently for every meal. 

Hitting "send" on this very important email meant one thing. Well, two things. First, of course, this is really happening!! A huge milestone in the life of a book was reached, and I couldn't have been more thrilled.

Second, it was a small breath of freedom to return to the kind of cooking I do every day:  intuitive cooking. This means adapting a recipe if I want to, baking a sweet potato and calling it dinner, and not measuring salt. In short, my hands would not be nearly as busy for the next few days, so I decided a manicure was very much worthwhile this time around. 

It also afforded me a couple of days to do something I haven't done in months: read the New Yorker.

I'm well aware that six months pregnant may not have been the best time to launch a new subscription. I was excited, though, and when the first few editions arrived I read them in the evening before bed, and even aloud as Andrew occasionally rubbed my feet. It felt like bliss. Then I had a baby, and my dreams of keeping a contained, almost non-existent magazine pile were dashed.

Having a baby certainly changes the amount of productive time you have in a given day. Also, your definition of productive is sure to change from something like "I put together a presentation for work!" to "I put together a load of laundry... that's washed, but still needs to be transferred to the dryer!" 

Some might find this frustrating. And yes, I've had my moments, especially with a book deadline looming, but in some ways it makes my spare time all the more valuable. I must be extra picky with how to spend my time. This isn't a new concept to me, though.

As an introvert, I've long felt my energy stores dwindle at the expense of small talk, mundane tasks, or non-valuable social activities like loud cocktail hours. It's who I am, and I know it and love it. It means I'm less giving of my time, which may seem selfish to non-introverts or someone who doesn't know me personally, but if I'm not going to get value out of an experience, or if I'm going to be forced into small talk situations void of meaning, count me out.

So when I have free time nowadays, which mainly consists of brief windows of time (a spare 10 minutes or 30 minutes here and there), I act fast. The laundry in the dryer? Folded. Email in my inbox? Answered. Teeth brushed? Check. Sometimes, though, I just take a nap.

Of course, you don't need to have a baby in order to learn this kind of lesson, but it does help.

Aside from less time to read magazines, there's also the matter of getting dinner on the table. I've mentioned before how it can now take upwards of the entire day to make dinner. This isn't because I'm being overly ambitious, either, and making three courses or utilizing all my pots and pans. No.

It's because Henry's schedule is still unpredictable and I never know how much time I'll have when he falls asleep. To offset the inevitable, I try to prep the night before, once Andrew gets home. Or on Sunday I'll make pesto and curry paste and puree a soup. Whatever can be prepped to help with dinners during the week, I'll do it. (If I'm not napping, see above.)

This rambling is all to ask, what do you do with the time you have? Where are you putting your efforts and giving your energy?

I like to sit with this question every so often because it's easy to get caught up in things that don't matter, both at home and at work, and helpful to  focus on the things that do, like spending more quality time with friends, changing a routine, reading more and watching less television, or yes, even firmly sticking to my cross-the-street-so-I-don't-have-to-make-small-talk strategy. Conserve, conserve, conserve. 

This goes for cooking on occasion, too. After the flurry of final testing and writing, I needed a break, and for almost an entire week my manicure remained pristine enough to remind me it's not only acceptable to put down my pen and close my laptop, but that resting is an entirely non-negotiable and necessary component to being a writer.