When learning, say, the piano, students typically take lessons from someone who knows not only how to play, but how to teach. Then, they practice. A lot. At first it may not be impressive: scales, simple melodies. Fingers on the keys, moving and working. Making mistakes, trying again. An aspiring pianist will play for their instructor, who provides feedback on what they are doing right, and what needs improvement.
And rinse and repeat. The aspiring musician does not become a virtuoso overnight. They are dedicated to their craft. They receive instruction, and practice. It’s simple, but not easy.
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Aspiring pianists also listen to music. Hearing masterful music develops their ear and their understanding of what music should sound like. They develop an ear not just by playing, but by hearing. By listening critically.
In much the same way, a writer can develop their skills by receiving instruction and feedback, practicing, and listening.
As I coach writers, they often ask me “How?”
This query surfaces frequently as we discuss improving their writing. (Of course, they also ask “how can I get published?” –a question that must be preceded by the former questions.)
How, for example, does one make a paragraph more concise? Which words to eliminate? Which sentences to strike? How does one ferret out the passive voice, the overuse of “to be” verbs? What happens if you cut too close to the bone?
How do you discover strong verbs, clear sentence structure? How do you organize your ideas into a logical sequence? How do you decide what to include in your book, and more importantly, what to leave out?
How does a writer get better, is what they are really asking.
The path to improvement is much the same as other fields: instruction and practice.
Which means, of course, you must begin by facing your fears. If you want to get better, you must become a student of writing. You must invite someone who knows more about writing to read and edit your work. (Which terrifies some writers.) You must learn what good writing looks and feels like.
A lot of aspiring writers find this an inconvenient truth.
Writing is one of the few endeavors that people think they can just do without training, feedback, or practice. Rookies believe they can just write. After all, they write emails. They read books. How hard could it be?
If you decided one day to be a mechanical engineer or brain surgeon or a plumber, you wouldn’t just start doing it and hope for the best. You’d learn skills, then practice them. For years. You’d need someone to teach you and guide you. You’d seek out instruction, then practice what you learn.
How can you become a better writer? Write every day. Read every day. But also, find a writing teacher or mentor. Hire an editor. Learn from people who know more than you about the craft of writing.
The Power of Reading
First: read good books. Classics. Pulitzer or Newberry winners. Read a variety of well-constructed novels or nonfiction. Read a variety of genres, but especially the genre you want to write. Go to school on these books. Notice the way authors choose their words, turn their phrases. Notice the pacing that certain words create. Read slowly, get curious. What does the author do and how do they do it?
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Second: read your own work out loud. This is a simple yet powerful hack that will shine light on your writing, forcing you to hear, rather than simply skim over, your own mistakes. Does your writing flow? Does it keep the reader engaged? Reading aloud will help you to answer those questions.
Third: read books about writing. I’ve got a list of a few good ones here.
The classic Strunk & White’s Elements of Style provides mini-masterclass on good writing. Two of their non-negotiable rules: eliminate needless words, and avoid passive voice. Both will take you far in your efforts to improve your writing.
An important caveat: do not try to be concise or refined or even smart on the first pass. Let your first draft be wordy, messy, verbose, full of whatever run on thoughts and overindulgences you wish.
Your finished draft is made of gems, arranged just so, highly polished. But those gems are buried in dirt and wordiness of your first draft, and you must simply scoop shovelfuls onto the page, as if spreading the contents of a dusty box onto a table. Slowly, you’ll brush away the dust and detritus, then select and polish the gems. But start with ideas, tangents, non sequiturs. Hold all of it loosely, because much of it will be swept aside. But the only way to find the treasure is to start with the dirt.
So the answer to “How?” is simple, but not easy. Sign up for a writing class at your local community college. Join a writers’ group dedicated to honest critique. Hire a writing coach to give you feedback that will show you how to improve your writing, one paragraph at a time.
And then, write. Write every day. Read. Read every day. Let others read what you write. The “how” to become a better writer won’t happen by just wishing. Seek instruction. Practice. Read. Write. The path before you is not easy, but neither is it impossible.
Book recommendation
Just this week, I discovered the writing of Irish author Claire Keegan. At the recommendation of my writing bestie Susy Flory, I picked up Small Things Like These. It’s tiny, only 115 pages or so—of the most lovely and compelling prose I’ve read in a long time.
Set in 1985 in Ireland, this beautifully crafted book tells the story of Bill Furlong, a coal merchant, and his family and the small town where they live. When Bill discovers a horrifying truth about what’s going on at the convent in the middle of town, his life is forever changed. If you’re looking for a book to enjoy, or one to study for a master class in great writing, I highly recommend this one.
P.S. If you’re looking for an editor or coach, I provide those services. To schedule a free consultation about your writing, click the button below.
I’ve read a few books on writing by NYT best selling authors. Some were nowhere near as good as the person recommending the book told me they were. Then I read 27 Fiction Writing Blunders - And How Not To Make Them! by James Scott Bell. Yikes it’s good! Short little chapters that hit a point and leave it there. It reads like a notebook he cleaned up for publication (which it turns out this, as he explains in a couple of the pointers he covers).
After reading it I emailed him with a question on interiority. He got back to me within two hours with a short answer that was a mini master class in the subject.
"But the only way to find the treasure is to start with the dirt." Ah, such a good analogy. I have three books that I have poured my heart and soul into, but which currently sit like big buckets of dirt in need of sifting. It would be easier to give up on them, but my husband won't leave me alone about them. Thanks for the inspiration to give them some more time and attention.