How I Write: romanticized work, absurd output, and new ideas

When someone asks me about my writing process, my response is always the same: I put words on paper every day, no matter how I feel.

I maintain a steady output not because of any specific approach, but because I don’t allow myself to negotiate with myself. 

I find it helpful to consider how no one else is going to read what I’m drafting. That’s the point of a first draft — to brain-dump on the page in a messy, freeform way that you know you’ll organize later.

The quality of the work shouldn’t be a priority on the first go around. If you get hung up on specifics, progress becomes too slow. Fear of judgement tends to hold a lot of writers back. But even if you slog through 10 drafts of something and you still don’t think it’s adequate, there’s still little reason to worry because no one will read work that isn’t good. 

I take comfort knowing bad ideas get buried on the internet.

New ideas and romanticized work

As far as what to write about, I keep a running brainstorm in my iPhone notes. Items at the top of the list currently: 

• Creative ways to get a job
• The value of free work early in a career
• Books roundup for January

I also write about problems I’m currently working through, or draw details from recent conversations. 

Mostly, though, I sit down to write without a concrete direction. It’s the act of putting words on paper that invites ideas I wouldn’t have otherwise come across. The motivation paradox is very applicable here:

Some wait for inspiration before taking action, while others stumble upon inspiration by taking action. 

The most productive people I know are in the latter camp. I’ve never heard of anyone who’s mastered a craft that didn’t put action above all else. 

It’s easy to romanticize how great work comes to life. I’ve had plenty of daydreams about sitting in a cafe in Paris or Madrid with a quilled pen and parchment, sipping a café au Lait and writing while jazz music floated around me. 

Meanwhile, I’ve had a total of zero dreams about pumping out crappy blog posts or short stories at 5:00 a.m. before clocking in for my day job. But here we are. 

I remind myself often to think about the great artists of history who did not operate under perfect conditions. 

Most famous writers wrote millions of words in obscurity before landing on something that was sufficient enough to publish. Hemingway famously lived in squalid conditions and bummed meals off friends before he “made it.”

What people misunderstand, too, is how writing is not actually a talent-intensive pursuit. The artists with household names are indeed talented, but they’ve typically produced so much work that talent takes a backseat to the skill they acquired over many years of absurd output. Investor Paul Graham has written about this extenaively.

For me, I write as much as I can because I believe doing so gives me the best shot to become excellent. Most of what I publish isn’t widely read. That’s unlikely to change for a long time. But it doesn’t matter. The work is the point.

Ultimately, I try to put as little thought as I can into “being a writer” and the accompanying baggage, and instead I focus on the words on the page. 

Austin Kleon, who has several good books on the creative process, has a great framing on this:

Let go of the thing that you’re trying to be (the noun), and focus on the actual work you need to be doing (the verb).

I’ve seen this quote cited often in writerly circles, and it’s fitting.

Anyway — time to get back to work.