I Don’t Feel Qualified to Give Writing Advice (But Screw It, Here We Are)

Let me paint the scene: my wife and my girlfriend (yes, don’t crucify me for having a loving home) sit me down and tell me today, that I should start giving writing advice. Like it was the most sensible idea in the world. As though I’ve got something worth teaching.

I called B.S. pretty quick. I stared at them like they’d asked me to direct a musical using sock puppets and spite.

But here’s their logic: I’ve got a short story in a literary magazine, a novel in its fourth circle of editing hell, and a few children’s books I haven’t been brave enough to query agents with yet. I’ve had A.B.A.M.A.Ds first draft accepted for publishing through a hybrid house that went belly up for reasons I won’t go into, rewritten, stalled, sulked, spun around on my swivel chair like it’s my day job, and borderline quit more times than I care to admit. That’s not exactly a throne of credentials.

So, who the hell am I to be dishing out advice?

But here's what’s true, and what finally shut up that voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like every English teacher I ever disappointed: I’ve survived the process. More than once. And I came away with a sour taste in my mouth a couple of times, sure, but apparently also a few things worth sharing.

You don’t need an MFA. You don’t need a shelf full of awards. You just need to have been to hell, taken notes, and climbed back out with brimstone in your teeth.

So, at the behest of those who love and encourage me. Let’s talk shop.

How to Build a Writing System That Doesn’t Hate You

Your writing systems suck because they weren’t built for you. They were built for neurotypical morning people who apparently live in log cabins with uninterrupted silence and a bottomless supply of self-worth. Things that neither you or myself likely have. But, if that’s you, great. This post isn’t for you.

If you’re someone who writes in chaos, in stolen hours, under imagined deadlines, in pyjamas that may or may not qualify as pants; welcome. Let’s build a system that won’t break you.

Know When You Work Best

I don’t care what the productivity influencers say. If you write better at 1:47 a.m. while eating cereal from the box and blasting death rap, that is your golden hour. Own it.

For me, it was all over the place. Some mornings started at 5 a.m. because my brain wouldn’t shut up. Some nights bled into sunrise, fingers twitching, back screaming at me, chasing one more line. Some months I wrote nothing, literally nothing; I even flipped my laptop the bird like an immature teenager. I just stared at the screen in passing like it owed me money… And it stared right back.

Your job isn’t to fight your rhythm. It’s to find it. Exploit it. And forgive it when it bails. But you do have to sit back down again and write. I know it sucks.

Find A System That Honestly Works for You,

Not What Me or Anyone Else Tells You

I have two faux leather binders. Like the one from Supernatural. Inside they’re both filled with sticky notes. One for every scene, every chapter. Not colour coded. No aesthetic. Just raw ideas in ballpoint pen.

They’re ugly, but organised enough for me to make it work.

You don’t need tools that flex. Spreadsheets. Wall-sized cork boards. A drawer full of scribbled napkins. Don’t aim for perfection. Aim for something you can tinker with.

You can most certainly do all of those things; I myself couldn’t imaging pantsing my first manuscript. Now, with the second one I think I’m going to have to pants the first draft, just to get my ideas in some semblance of a line.

Structure’s great. But not if it chokes the life out of your ideas.

Create a Ritual Trigger, Don’t Wait for Your Muse.

She’s Not Coming

I’m not referring to crystals or chants. I’m talking rituals like brushing your teeth or having caffeine; little brain hacks that signal: "We’re doing the thing now."

Music did it for me. I shut the whole world out. Right now I’m not listening to music, I’m soaking in the clickity-clack of my keyboard and wondering if I want one of those sensory MORE clickity-clack ones. Different playlists for different characters. Damien had Mumford and Sons, and XXXTentacion. Will was all death rap. Ivan got Bach and Tchaikovsky, because you simply cannot skimp on good taste.

Sometimes the words wouldn’t come. But the mood would. And if you can get the mood, you’ve got a foothold.

Your trigger could be lighting a candle, making a coffee, closing a door, petting the dog. It does not matter. What matters is that it becomes your switch. Train yourself on something.

You will Faulter, And You Will Fail

The system will fail. You’ll get sick. Burn out. Real life will happen.

Don’t throw the system out. Don’t spiral into shame. Just stand up, shit happens. Restart the playlist. Open your notepad. Write one damn sentence. Just dust yourself off and keep going for literacy’s sake.

Momentum doesn’t mean never stopping. It means starting again. And again. And again.

My point is:

You don’t need discipline, well… You do or you won’t get anywhere. You need a system that doesn’t hate you. You need to find what works for you as an individual and you need to be kind to yourself enough to forgive yourself when you err.

Build that system. Then write like hell.

First Drafts Are Garbage. Don’t Beat Yourself Up

Let’s kill a sacred cow: your first draft is supposed to suck. If it doesn’t, you probably just rewrote your resume with dragons in it. You do you I guess.

I’ve read A LOT of writing advice articles, blogs, YouTube videos from whoever I could get my hands on, and a lot of them agree on “your first draft isn’t the book”. They’re not wrong, it’s the map to the book. A sketch. A terrible one. Scribbled in eyeliner at 3 a.m. with your non-dominant hand.

The First Draft Isn’t the Book

It’s scaffolding. Frame. It’s literally just the bones. Just throw everything on the page, the good, the bad, the incoherent. Just be happy that you threw

When it’s finished, you’ll probably have 20,000 words worth of mud you at a wall. Look at it really, really hard. Some of it stuck to said wall, and some of it likely didn’t stink as much as you thought. Geeze, you may even find a turd you can actually polish.

I know you’ll look at it and think "This is hot garbage" it probably is, I won’t lie to you. But buried in the mess were moments. Beats that sang. Glimpses of the real story clawing its way up through the wreckage to grab a breath of air.

Don’t freak out. Don’t panic. Just look at what you’ve created and let it sink in.

Clarity Comes After Chaos

Seriously. That’s when the themes start kicking in. That’s when characters deepen. That’s when the plot finally stops dragging its rear across your carpet.

If you’re waiting to understand your story before you write it. Stop. That’s what the draft is for. Unless you’re a plotter like me who clings hopelessly to order, in which case you can doo what I think I’m going to have to do and pants a first draft. Seriously, just write. It’s good for you.

Don’t Edit While Writing

I’m not going to elaborate on this. It was the mistake I made and it just had me chasing my own tail fixing typos and reinventing the wheel. Just wait until you’ve finished whichever draft you’re on and THEN go back over everything; you’ll have grown as a writer in that time and can actually pick out your errors and make proper corrections.

Rewriting Is Writing

Rewriting is not optional. Rewriting is part the job.

The real book. The one people will read. Doesn’t get born until the gosh-knows-how-manyeth try (Yes, I made up a word, moving on). You will rewrite whole characters. Tear out subplots. Stitch new ones in. All of that is okay as long as you’re not just creating busy work for yourself to procrastinate.

That’s not failure. That’s the craft of writing.

Bottom-ish Line:

Your first draft will suck.

Good.

That means it’s working.

Write it poorly. Then make it elegant or brutally honest and beautiful later.

Still Feel Unqualified?

Yeah, me too.

And then Google had this to say: “An author is generally someone who has created a written work and had it published. While anyone who writes can be considered a writer, an author is specifically someone whose writing has been made public through publication. This can include books, articles, blog posts, or any other form of written content.”

So, apparently, I’m giving writing advice now.

I hope my first attempt was insightful. You are welcome to reach out to me if it pleases you.