Good Writing

1. Prioritize Strong, Active Verbs

Replace weak verbs, which are imprecise (“walked,” “stood”), with vivid verbs, which are specific (“trudged,” “malingered”).

Write with verbs. The foundation of good writing lies in using strong, vivid verbs that convey precise action and energy. Weak verbs like "walk," "feel," "think," or "get" are often overused and leave readers with a colorless, inert impression. By choosing specific verbs, you not only make your sentences more dynamic but also reduce the need for adverbs, as a strong verb often implies the manner of action (e.g., "raced" instead of "ran quickly").

Avoid "to be" and "to have." These verbs are the weakest of all, inherently static, and halt narrative momentum. "I am tired" or "I have three dollars" describe a fixed state or possession rather than an activity. While they have auxiliary uses, questioning their presence often leads to more active and engaging alternatives. For instance, "I was tired" can become "I grew tired," transforming a static state into an active process of becoming.

Keep it active. Favor the active voice over the passive voice. Sentences like "I was handcuffed by Jim" are less impactful than "Jim handcuffed me." While the passive voice has its place for emphasis or when the actor is unknown, generally, an active construction makes your prose more direct and forceful. Also, be wary of "-ing" verbs, which can sometimes add distance or flabbiness to a narrative, often implying a prior action rather than immediate engagement.

2. Cultivate Clarity and Economy in Language

Let others be erudite; your job is to befriend your reader.

Don't show off. Resist the urge to display cleverness or erudition for its own sake. Overly complex vocabulary or contrived literary devices can alienate readers and disrupt the seamless world you're trying to create. Your primary goal is to connect with the reader, not to impress them. As Jessica Mitford famously advised, "murder your darlings"—cut anything that stands out merely to showcase your linguistic prowess.

Prefer Anglo-Saxon words. Opt for shorter, punchier Anglo-Saxon words over fancy, abstract Latinate ones. Anglo-Saxon words are typically more physical, conversational, and evoke sensory feelings and emotional memories, connecting with the reader's body and heart, not just their intellect. For example, choose "crash" over "collision," "hurl" over "propel," or "smelly" over "malodorous." This makes your writing more immediate and accessible.

Jettison tiny words and crutches. Remove unnecessary clutter like excessive pronouns, prepositions, and connectors. Phrases like "in order to" can often be replaced by "to," and redundancies like "a new dawn" can simply be "dawn." Similarly, eliminate crutch words such as "very," "really," "basically," or "important," as they often weaken what they modify. Deleting "very" usually suffices, but if the remaining word is insufficient, find a stronger substitute (e.g., "exhausted" instead of "very tired").

3. Trust Your Unique Writing Voice

Your natural voice has its own tempo, pitch, ease, and overall sound. Let it ring out.

Discover, don't create. Your writing voice isn't something you fabricate; it's something you uncover through practice. It encompasses your unique melody, harmony, and rhythm, as well as your inherent interests and personality. Trying to imitate another writer's voice will only result in immature and inauthentic prose. Trusting your own voice means allowing yourself to riff freely in early drafts, knowing you can refine it later.

Embrace your quirks. A writer's voice is deeply tied to their idiosyncrasies—their fears, wishes, and unique perspective. These quirks define the conflicts and revelations in your work, whether fiction or nonfiction. Readers appreciate authors who offer a fresh set of eyes on the world, aligning with the confidence that their personal interests hold universal appeal. Your voice is the nexus of all your writing decisions, from topic to syntax.

Understand melody, rhythm, and harmony. Like music, writing integrates these three elements.

• Melody: The bright or dark elements, wit, aphorisms, telling details, and metaphors that provide instant recognition and meaning.
• Rhythm: The pulse or drive of your prose, creating lulls, punch lines, and staccato disruptions, without being strictly metrical.
• Harmony: The relational and emotional glue, recognized in layers that amplify or correct each other, reflecting the complexities of life.
  Focus on your natural strengths in these areas, and your writing will resonate more authentically.

4. Master Sentence Structure and Rhythm

For a series of terms to land, you usually need three.

Question transitions. Transitional phrases like "then," "next," "when," or "however" are often unnecessary unless there's a genuine gap in time or logic that needs bridging. Readers are adept at following natural progression. Removing superfluous transitions not only streamlines your prose but also forces you to ensure the inherent logic of your narrative is strong enough to carry the reader forward without explicit prompts.

Link ideas with semicolons. This often-neglected tool can elegantly connect two tightly linked, complete sentences, reinforcing their relationship without needing a transitional phrase. A semicolon creates a sliding pause, suggesting that the sentences on either side are richer together than apart. It's a subtle rhetorical device that adds nuance and flow, reflecting a deeper connection between thoughts.

Vary sentence length and give it a finale. Use intentionally short sentences to punctuate longer, more lyrical passages, bringing the reader home with abrupt impact. Conversely, long sentences are acceptable if they are linear, propulsive, and build to a strong payoff at the end. The most powerful element of a sentence typically belongs at its conclusion, where it lingers in the reader's mind, echoing or complementing what came before.

5. Craft Compelling Characters and Dialogue

Dialogue needs to be as zippy and economical as the rest of the book.

Crystallize your dialogue. Dialogue should be sharp, economical, and reveal character choices rather than merely describing personalities. Avoid mundane hellos and goodbyes unless they serve a specific purpose. Characters should speak consistently with their background, diction, and idiosyncrasies. Too little dialogue leaves readers wondering about character voices, while too much can bog down the narrative, begging for action or descriptive color.

Archetype your characters. Ensure your characters are distinct and consistent with common psychological patterns. Beyond superficial traits, delve into their hidden fears, yearnings, pet peeves, and behaviors. Jungian archetypes or personality systems can be useful guides to ensure characters play out their roles believably. Readers unconsciously expect these patterns, and inconsistencies can be jarring. Even if characters evolve, they should do so within their archetypal framework.

Give them a hero's welcome. In fiction, introduce your protagonist early on in a way that makes them lovable or admirable through the eyes of another character. Readers need to know who to root for quickly to feel comfortable and invested in the story. This initial positive impression helps secure the reader's allegiance, allowing them to forgive flaws or navigate complexities later in the narrative.

Once is enough. Describe a character or place distinctively in one concise paragraph upon its first appearance. Avoid repeating physical descriptions unless a detail plays a crucial role in a pivotal action or foreshadows a significant plot point. This forces you to make initial descriptions memorable and impactful, treating every prop, setting, and character as a clue in the reader's puzzle-solving journey.

6. Engage Senses and Trust Reader Intelligence

Sight is only one of five senses; let your readers enjoy touch, hearing, smell, and taste.

Smell the roses. Go beyond visual descriptions and incorporate all five senses: touch, hearing, smell, and taste. While humans rely heavily on sight, evoking other senses offers novelty and grounds the reader in a richer, more immersive world. A hit of gasoline at the pump, the sweet fragrance of masa tortillas, or the metallic sound of a noisy party can make a scene come alive, pulling the reader into the present moment.

Don't filter. Avoid starting sentences with phrases like "He thought," "She wondered," or "They felt." These "filtering" words distance the reader from the immediate experience of the character. Instead, present the thought or feeling directly, allowing the reader to experience it as it happens. For example, "He thought she was right" becomes "She was right." This makes the narrative more gripping and less self-conscious.

Trust your reader. Your reader is intelligent and will fill in gaps, constructing backstories and emotional characteristics you haven't explicitly detailed. You don't need to over-explain every nuance; readers take tiny clues and extrapolate, often projecting their own understanding onto characters and situations. While this doesn't excuse laziness, it frees you to focus on impactful details, allowing the reader to actively participate in puzzling out meanings and anticipating consequences.

7. Deepen Meaning Through Wordplay and Layering

Metaphors mirror humdrum experiences through elegant comparison. In the hands of an expert, they both illuminate and offer depth of field.

Know your words inside and out. Investigate the etymology of important words. Understanding a word's origins can make it more concrete and open up new avenues for writing, revealing hidden connections and possibilities for imaginative leaps. For instance, knowing "truth" originally meant "tree" might inspire metaphors of solidity, rootedness, or permanence, enriching your descriptions.

Stay in tune. The best words are both precise and unnoticed, fitting seamlessly into the narrative. Use a thesaurus not for fancy words, but to find the exact common word that best conveys your meaning. A word that reads false will jar the reader, breaking the immersive experience. Torture critical words, ensuring they are perfectly "ducky" (or "right," as Anne Lamott might prefer), even if it means changing sentence structure.

Find the hidden metaphor and twist clichés. Metaphors are not just authorial adornments; they are fundamental to how we understand the world. Recognize that everyday language is full of hidden metaphors, and consciously use them to illuminate and add depth. Similarly, don't shy away from clichés in first drafts, but then twist them until they "bleed," transforming hackneyed phrases into fresh, unexpected zingers that satisfy the reader's search for novelty.

Layer your sentences. Each sentence should serve multiple purposes beyond conveying simple meaning. A layered sentence might simultaneously advance the plot, reveal character, establish rhythm, add sensory detail, and contribute to the overall seamlessness and color of the narrative. Literary writing invites pondering, and layered sentences achieve this by doing two or more of these functions, making the reader wonder, "How did the author do that?"

8. Embrace the Writing Process: Finish, Break Rules, Collaborate

Your job is to complete the project. The final quality and consequences are not yet your business.

Write the hard stuff. Don't shy away from articulating the big mysteries of life or the material that initially stumps you. If it's hard to write, it's probably worth writing, as it pushes your imagination and refines your understanding. Embrace simplicity in expressing fundamentals of human behavior and emotion, and don't be afraid to punctuate a scene by stating the obvious, as these simple truths often drive deeper meaning.

Break the rules. While rules provide a protective coating, they are not absolute like grammar. Understand each rule thoroughly, practice it consciously, and then know when to intentionally break it for dramatic effect or to suit your unique voice and purpose. Often, breaking a rule simply means shifting to a different framework, like adopting a conversational nonfiction style that borrows from fiction's rules of first-personalness.

Finish the damn thing. Overcome procrastination and writer's block by focusing solely on completing the current draft. Separate your role as writer from the concerns of quality and consequences, which belong to editors and publishers. Trust that your inherent talent and knowledge are already "baked in." The act of completion is a subversive act against perfectionism, allowing you to discover what your writing truly is, even if the first draft is "shitty."

Worship talented editors. Writing is a collaborative process, and good editors are invaluable. They fill in your blind spots, offering fresh perspectives on rhythm, character, language, and structure that you cannot see yourself. An editor's role is not to alter your voice but to ensure your quality appears consistently, lifting dragging sentences and saving you from embarrassment. Listen openly to their suggestions, as they are invested in helping your work reach its highest potential.