Don’t Just Write
Sometimes the best way to start writing isn’t to “write.”
From the How to Have Written podcast:
In an earlier episode, you advised aspiring writers to just start writing because, as you said, anything is better than nothing. But when I do that, what comes out isn’t just bad — it’s wrong. It confuses my original idea in such a way that it discourages me from continuing. Why would you give us such shitty advice?
— Hesiod in Rampart, New Jersey
Oh man, that’s a good question. And one that’s really close to my heart, because I’ve dealt with that problem so many times. It’s traditionally been one of the biggest things standing between me and being productive.
There’s this general advice out there that writers often give, and while it might seem useful — and probably is useful to some people — it’s not for me. Or at least, it hasn’t been. The advice is: just write. On the surface, it seems logical. If you want to write a story, you have to write it. And I even kind of echoed that sentiment in a recent episode. But I don’t mean it in the sense that you have to just start writing prose right away.
You don’t need to begin at the first chapter. You don’t need to begin with the first sentence — or with sentences or chapters at all. Not really. If you don’t feel like you know the story well enough to sit down and start describing scenes, actions, or dialogue, you don’t have to force it. There are plenty of other ways to make progress.
So that advice — just write — I’ve rewritten it for myself as don’t just write. Very clever. Very creative, I know. But there are two ways to interpret it. The first is a rejection of the conventional wisdom. Don’t just write if that approach doesn’t work for you. If sitting down to start typing feels useless or unproductive, then don’t do it.
Now, to be clear, eventually, you do have to write. You’ll need to put words on the page, shape them into sentences, turn those into paragraphs, and so on until you have something people can read. But that doesn’t have to happen right now. And for some people — myself included — it isn’t even the best way to begin.
I know there are writers who can sit down and discover their story through narrative description or dialogue. I’ve heard George R.R. Martin calls this “gardening” — just writing and finding the story as you go. If that works for you, that’s fantastic. By all means, do it! But it doesn’t work for me. In fact, it’s often had a negative effect on my writing.
For years, I’d hear that advice — just write — and take it at face value. I’d sit down and start typing, even though I had no clear sense of what I was writing or where I was going. For example, let’s say I want to write a story about a guy who gets bitten by a zombie at work and then goes on a rampage through his office. Where do you begin?
You could start with him at his desk. You could start with him waking up in the morning. You could start with a prologue about how the zombie plague began. But if I don’t know who this guy is, what his office is like, who his coworkers are — then I’m just throwing darts blindfolded and hoping I hit something. Sure, some writers can do that and discover great things through contemplative drafts. But for me, it often feels like spinning my wheels.
This is where don’t just write comes in. If sitting down to write prose doesn’t work for you, it doesn’t mean you’re a bad writer. It doesn’t mean you’re not a writer at all. It just means there are other ways to engage with your story.
The other way to read it is don’t JUST write. Do more. It’s not just about avoiding writing for writing’s sake. It’s about doing other creative work that moves the story forward. There are so many parts of the writing process you can tackle, even if you’re not ready to put sentences on the page.
For instance, with my zombie-in-the-office idea, I don’t just have a concept. I have themes. The idea of chaos overturning the order of a mundane office intrigues me. From there, I can brainstorm. I can think about typical office life and imagine how it changes when a zombie shows up. I can come up with characters — like people I’d love to see eaten by a zombie — and scenarios pulled from my own office experiences.
Once I start collecting these ideas, I’m off to the races. I usually start with a placeholder title — something simple like Office Zombie — and then jot down thoughts. This feels productive. I might not be drafting, but I’m gathering the pieces I’ll need later.
Sometimes, I sit with my notebook while my wife and I relax in her office, and I scribble ideas as they come to me. It’s satisfying to see a story take shape this way. It’s like gathering Lego bricks for a larger build. Maybe I note down a scene where someone gets hit with a fax machine or pulled out from under a bathroom stall. Over time, I collect enough of these bricks to see the shape of the story.
Eventually, I’ll know the story well enough to figure out where it begins. Maybe I decide it starts with the boss arriving at the office for reasons tied to the plot. At that point, I can start writing actual prose. Or maybe I’ll just make detailed notes about that opening scene and keep adding to my document.
This process — brainstorming, gathering ideas, and organizing them — is writing. You’re creating the story. You’re doing the work, even if it doesn’t look like traditional drafting.
And here’s the beautiful part: You don’t have to focus on just one story. If I have multiple ideas — like a zombie story and one about a guy who builds race cars — I can work on both simultaneously. I keep separate documents or pages in a notebook, adding bits and pieces as they come to me. It’s like a fun creative hobby, and it keeps me engaged.
Over time, as my notes grow, I reach a point where I’m ready to start drafting. The process feels organic because I’ve done the groundwork. I know my story. I know where it’s going. And when I sit down to write, it feels natural.
So, what I’m saying is: Don’t just write. If drafting isn’t working for you, don’t force it. But also, don’t just write. Do all the other creative work that builds your story. Sentence structure is one of the least important parts of storytelling. The narrative, the heart of the story, is what really matters — and you can start working on that right now, even without a clear sense of direction.
