What Actually Makes You a Better Writer?
By Barbara Linn Probst | February 15, 2023 |
We’re passionate about writing, and that passion makes us want to grow, to get better and better at our craft. Fortunately—or maybe not—there are whole industries devoted to helping us do that.
There are workshops, webinars, courses, programs. Craft books, editing services, conferences, support groups. Some, like the craft essays here on Writer Unboxed, are free. Others can have price tags of hundreds or even thousands of dollars.
It seems reasonable to ask which, if any, of these classes and services actually help people improve their writing. To put it another way: is it “worth” signing up for all those programs and buying all those books? Or, in the end, is it a combination of talent, voice, and persistence—an elusive something that doesn’t lend itself to generalization?
I can’t possibly answer the questions I just posed, of course. But I can offer some reflections to help us explore them together.
First, let’s take a look at the ways that people try to improve their writing. For simplicity, I’ll divide them into two categories: those that focus on turning to “expert” sources outside oneself, and those that focus on turning inward, toward oneself.
External sources: Seeking knowledge and guidance from others
These “writing improvement strategies” are based on the assumption that there are people with more experience, wisdom, and objectivity who can teach us what they know—and thus, by the diligent application of what they advise, we can become better writers.
Sometimes this takes place indirectly—through craft books, courses, workshops, programs, and articles that offer guidelines, templates, lists, pointers. I call them indirect because the authors and instructors may never see your actual pages; it’s up to you to absorb their advice and figure out how to apply it to your own work.
At other times, the instruction takes place directly when a professional—a teacher, coach, developmental editor, or other experienced mentor— reads your pages and explains what you, specifically, need to do to make it better. Because this kind of assistance is more personalized, it tends to be costlier than the generic advice offered in webinars and books.
Note: Direct advice can also come from non-professionals or semi-professionals, like beta reading services and critique groups. This kind of feedback is not necessarily meant to teach the author how to be a “better writer,” however. As I wrote in my December 2022 article on this topic: “Unlike editors, there’s no expectation that beta readers will have advice about how to fix whatever weaknesses they find. They’re civilians, proxies for our future readers.”
Internal sources: Cultivating personal qualities, behaviors, and beliefs
Other strategies, in contrast, are based on the assumption that knowledge alone won’t produce better writing; vision, confidence, and perseverance are the fuel, the key to going beyond “technically correct” writing to discover one’s true voice.
This can mean changing one’s habits and behavior—for example, by creating a dedicated writing space where distractions are minimized, or committing to a disciplined, daily writing practice. Sometimes people undertake a structured routine like writing a minimum number of words each day, attending a weekly writing group, keeping a notebook of writing prompts, or making themselves accountable in some other concrete way.
The approach can also be internal, through developing inner qualities like confidence and determination. Belief in oneself can be strengthened by practices such as positive affirmation and meditation, or by participation in a support group. Inspiration can be strengthened—and resistance or doubt can be overcome—by going to places or engaging in activities that are likely to evoke or renew that special spark.
These two approaches aren’t mutually exclusive, of course; many people partake of both. But there’s also a third way—an approach that’s advocated less often, though I’m not sure why. Perhaps it seems too academic or old-fashioned. Yet I think it has much to offer.
Consider, for example, what people do to improve their piano playing; it’s something I strive to do, personally. Certainly, I look to outside sources; I have a wonderful teacher from whom I take lessons every two weeks, and I attend a week-long summer intensive for adult “serious amateur” pianists. And just as certainly, I have to cultivate personal qualities like a commitment to serious daily practice.
But I do other things, as well. In particular, I listen to recordings of really good pianists playing the music I want to study.
Granted, I’m not composing music, so the analogy with writing isn’t perfect. Yet I’ll bet that painters would say something similar: they study with a teacher and attend classes; they cultivate personal qualities like attention, perseverance, and openness; and they go to view and ponder the work of painters they admire.
It’s this third aspect that I’d like to offer here—studying the example of good role models. That’s what apprentices do, in other crafts and professions. Think of glass artists like Lino Tagliapietra and Dale Chihuly, or world-class chefs. Might that help us as writers, too?
Studying good models
By “study” I mean reading the work of writers you admire to see how they did it. Pulling their work apart, literally. Getting an extra copy of their book that you don’t mind marking up.
Let’s say you want to understand how and when to reveal the protagonist’s backstory. Perhaps beta readers have pointed out that your “backstory reveals” feel too artificial, melodramatic, or premature. You may intuit that they’re right, but don’t know how to do it differently.
With that in mind, you can open a novel by one of your Role Model Authors and look for how and when she shifts from the main narrative into flashbacks and backstory—and how she returns to the narrative when the flashback is over. Mark the triggers and transitional sentences, what I call the “portals,” as well as the timing of these flashbacks. How did the author do it? Did she use different kinds of portals? Did she wait? How did it feel to you, as a reader?
This is just an example. You can do the same thing with openings and endings of scenes, character entrances, emotional pivots, or any aspect of craft that you want to study. See how several different “skilled writers” (writers you admire) did it. What principles are in evidence; what tips can you glean?
This approach has its risks, of course. When you dissect the writing of Role Model Author, you may find that everything you’ve worked so hard to learn—all those bullet points and beats and guidelines that seemed so precise and irrefutable—are nowhere to be found. Role Model Author ignored them all! Now what? Should you ignore them too? Not necessarily. But maybe you should take them as a bit more provisional, as possibilities rather than prescriptions.
There’s a second risk as well, that of imitation—which can be tempting, even subconsciously, when studying the work of someone you admire. I’m not advocating that. But surely great writers have something to teach us, just as musicians and artists have always studied the work of those who went before.
Dani Shapiro speaks to the joys and benefits of this in her wonderful volume Still Writing: The Perils and Pleasures of a Creative Life, when she writes:
“Fill your ears with the music of good sentences, and when you finally approach the page yourself, that music will carry you. It will remind you that you are part of a vast symphony of writers, that you are not alone in your quest to lay down words, each one bumping against the next until something new is revealed. It will exhort you to do better. To not settle for just good enough. Reading great work is exhilarating. It shows us what’s possible.”
No doubt, there are additional approaches beyond those I’ve touched on here. Some people feel that reading their work aloud, or listening to it read aloud, is a one of the best things they can do, in the same way that a pianist can improve by playing for others—an experience that can be terrifying, devastating, exhilarating, and everything in-between—or a troupe of actors takes a play on a “trial run” to see what adjustments are still needed.
Can you add to this list?
- What has been most helpful to you, as you seek to become a better writer?
- Is there something that I didn’t mention?
- Have you ever dissected the work of authors you admire to “see how they did it?”
Barbara (she/her) is an author of contemporary women’s fiction living on an historic dirt road in New York’s Hudson Valley. Each of her acclaimed novels (Queen of the Owls, 2020; The Sound Between the Notes, 2021; and The Color of Ice, 2022) was a medalist for prestigious national awards, including the Sarton Award for Contemporary Fiction, the Independent Book Publishers Award, the Hawthorne Prize, and the Nautilus Award for Fiction. Her fourth novel, Roll the Sun Across the Sky, launches in May 2025 and has received stellar advance praise. Barbara has also published more than 80 articles on the craft of writing and the writing life. She has a PhD in Clinical Social Work and has been a therapist, teacher, researcher, and advocate for out-of-the-box kids and their families. When not writing, she’s a serious amateur pianist and a traveler to spots from Iceland to the Himalayas. Learn more on her website .
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Impressive summary of all the options. Thank you! I find content editors to be most helpful in learning more about my writing skills, especially when we brainstorm story issues. Learning my strengths and weakness seem to change with every story I write, so I think it’s an ongoing task of discovery and growth. My routine is to take one of my writing instruction books off my shelf every new year and read through it again. This year I reread the Art of Subtext by Charles Baxter. Brilliant!
Thanks, Paula! I love your point about re-reading a “writing instruction book” and discovering that it has new insights to offer—as you say, each story we write will pose different challenges, and we grow as writers and thus become aware of new layers of craft. No one can absorb everything at once, so true!
The answer to your questions is a triple “yes”. And you’re right, the third aspect you mention – dissecting other’s work – is something I do all the time. An older book, Marathon Man,(that inspired the more famous movie) was one I did awhile ago – if you want to see a perfect execution of the three-act structure, check it out – he hits every mark. I keep a notebook beside me as I read for pleasure and often make a note of a page to Xerox later- like “how to get into and out of a flashback – page 86”. There’s one aspect of reading great work (or not so great, and analyzing why it doesn’t work) and that’s developing an “ear” for the language. What results is an unconscious sense of how the sentence works/reads best.
What a great approach, Maggie—to keep a notebook by your side, where you can jot down places to revisit later while “reading for pleasure,” without breaking the story spell. Some people read a book twice, first as a reader and then as a writer. But I like your technique very much because you are dropping a pin in places that affected you as while in reader mode. And yes, analyzing what does NOT work can be very useful too! I would add (wish I had thought to include it in my blog!) that what works or does not work in one novel might be just the opposite in another. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
I like your suggestions, Maggie. What a fun way to pick up tips. Your blog on your website is terrific. I’d like to follow it. I didn’t see a Follow or signup button for your monthly blog posts. Did I miss it or do you not accept followers? Thanks, Paula
Your advice on studying good models has worked well for me. When I was in the middle of writing my first novel, I was reading “Truth Be Told” by an author I greatly admire, Hank Phillippi Ryan. I realized I needed help structuring my own book, so I outlined hers. That exercise gave me the information I needed to move forward.
I think it’s synonymous with an amateur athlete watching a good professional play a sport. Just the act of watching makes the amateur better.
Great examples! That’s what I was trying to express about studying the piano :-) If I’m started to learn a piece, it can be dangerous to listen too much to others play it, because there’s a natural tendency to imitate. But later, when I’ve gotten to know the piece “up to a certain level,” it can be so helpful to listen to professional playing, because at that point I’m able to hear the nuance of interpretation and see what more is possible …
And yes, outlining is a great technique! I remember reading something Hank said about how she reads other thrillers, starting with the ending, and then going back to see how the author got there!
I challenge myself to write stories that I don’t know how to write. A plotless novel. A period voice. Race car horror. It’s learning by doing. For me it works.
Yup, you can’t get better at something by thinking about it! All the things I described in the article are just options along the way to “butt in the chair” and “learning by doing.” Thanks for this!
What a great post, Barbara. I’m a both/and girl. I’ve done workshops, paid for evaluations, live-pitched, and read books on craft while continuing to write-revise-repeat. This journey has taken shape for me as a spiral, going round and round, but also, up and up. Over the years, after money spent and a good many dead-ends, I’ve found a writing community and a circle of mentors that I trust to point me where I want to go. I also dissect books to learn how certain writers achieve certain effects, and I’ve been astonished at how it’s never quite the same twice. So I’ve learned that you do the scales, run the laps, then dare to fly.
Beautifully said, Susan! I especially like your image of a spiral that goes “up” and not just “around” in circles. Rather than checking off avenues of learning (“done that!”), we return to the methods that resonate, again and again, when we are ready to glean new understanding from them. And then—as you say—we have to let it all go and dare to fly!
Barbara, thank you for these reflections. I do all these–read, study, dissect, take classes, critique, write and experiment. And at different times, some approaches have yielded better results than others. I love how this writing life challenges us to go beyond our comfort zone. It’s like any other artistic endeavor, and life really, as we strive to make our life a work of art too.
Yes, yes, yes: to go beyond one’s comfort zone, to stretch, to dare—rather than to simply verify what one already thinks and “knows.” That is (I think) how life and art inform each other, how our journey as a human being and our journey as someone who seeks to create are intertwined. Thank you so much, Vijaya!
Barbara, all those things, sometimes on the same day. There’s a fourth, that’s rather a baptismal of all: a daily dip into the rejuvenating springs at WU. Clear writing waters, no chlorine.
How lovely, and I hope dear Therese Walsh sees your comment!
Your allusion prompts me to add these literal items to my list: a swim, a shower, a walk, a nap!
Writers are very generous in giving away their secrets – for less than $200, you can get a huge basic education on most of the craft in paperback or ebook, to be marked up at your leisure.
If that isn’t enough, I’m sure this piece of advice is common: learn to be self-aware. It applies to being able to SEE there is a difference between the story in your head, and the one on the page. If you can’t even see that, you will never be able to fix your own writing. I had that knowledge snap into place early, courtesy of Mary Elizabeth Allen at Mercer County Community College in central New Jersey – and can still remember how if felt: “Oh.” Followed by, “I see.”
I’ve been trying for years to find her to thank her. Her short course for adults was, “How to write the mystery,” and promised that, if we cared to DO the homework, we’d end the six 3-hour session course with a cast of characters, an outline of the plot, setting and other basics, and a completed Chapter 1. She was as good as her word. She didn’t require the 25 or so adults in her class to do the homework – because she knew we had lives.
I would also add one caution: having tried several times to study other novels that I love to ‘see how they do it,’ I can warn from experience that it’s a good way to lose the rest of the day.
I can’t – plowing into reading a book I love for examples always results in me getting sucked into the story as by a vortex, and reading far beyond what I planned.
However, there are some excellent books on writing (Donald Maass does this very well in, say, The Fire in Fiction) which pull an appropriate extract – and no more – for you to examine technique under their guidance.
Funny how the appropriate post can come along just when you’re exploring this or that concept towards improving your craft. In this case it’s backstory, which I’m trying to incorporate in an organic way, but wondering if it has a bit much of an info dump feel. I just finished a book by Ethan Joella, A Quite Life, that I adored for both the story and his ability to deftly weave backstory into the novel. It was teased out in such a way that kept you in suspense and wanting more, but wasn’t frustrating or left you wondering what was going on. Everything had the right cadence. I was engrossed in the book, but was still able to think about how his style could be incorporated into my own writing.
IA great example (I loved that book too!). Another book that reveals backstory in a similar way, that you might like very much, is Still True by Maggie Ginsberg. You might also want to look at my post here on WU about backstory (https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/2022/04/20/its-about-time-backstory-flashback-and-chronology/) or, if I’m permitted, at The Color of Ice (at the end of this post). There are many ways to do it, so it’s great to see various ways that it’s handled. All the best to you!