Practical Tips for Writers

It is the nature of a vocation to appear to men in the double character of a duty and a desire... a thing that calls or beckons, that calls inexorably, yet you must strain your ears to catch the voice, that insists on being sought, yet refuses to be found.... To follow the vocation does not mean happiness: but once it has been heard, there is no happiness for those who do not follow.

- C. S. Lewis - A Preface to Paradise Lost

1) What is the purpose of the arts? The purpose of the arts, when it is not merely to entertain, is to engage, edify, uplift, and ennoble; to enrich our minds with a vision of positive transformation in ourselves and in our world, and to place in our hearts the will to effect that change. The greatest writers do all of these things: C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, Shakespeare.

2) Ask yourself, “What do I have to say?” If you’re going on a journey you need to know where you’re going before you figure out how you’re going to get there.

3) Write not because you want to but because you must; the pursuit of excellence is fuelled by passion. Passion cannot be manufactured. The ONLY reason you should be writing is because you can’t not write. If you’re writing because you think it would be nice to work at home in your bathrobe all day, you’ve picked the wrong reason. The fact that it is nice to work in your bathrobe does not change this. And if you’re writing because you want to make a lot of money, you’re living a rich fantasy life. When someone actually pays you for something you’ve written, you’ve reached the stratosphere. Writers who earn enough money to buy groceries are the lottery winners; those who earn enough to provide shelter wherein to eat their food are another order of being entirely.

4) On writer’ block: it’s not your concern. It’s God’s concern. Your job as a writer is to show up. Regularly. You sit, and you wait. If the words don’t come you don’t get up. You sit there and read what you’ve got and if there’s nothing to read you sit there anyway. Don’t beat yourself up. Just sit. Because when the words DO come you have to be there. Keep a notebook and a pen with you everywhere you go. Ideas can be fleeting. C. S. Lewis got the idea for The Screwtape Letters while sitting in church. As he said, “One could wish these things came in better season.”

5) You must be a reader before you can be a writer. Trying to be a writer without having first been a reader is like trying to be a composer without ever having heard music. There’s an old saying that you should choose your friends wisely because you’ll become what they are. It’s the same with books. Expose yourself only to the best. There is music in language, and whether you like it or not, you will emulate what you have been exposed to. Every book you read represents ten books that you’ll never get to. Life is too short to read good books. You don’t even have world enough and time for the great ones. Choose wisely.

6) Once you have chosen your friends, immerse yourself in them. Reread them again and again. One of the tests of greatness is that a great book improves with each reading, and as you grow older a great book grows with you. You find more in the book because there is more of you to find it.

7) Indulge yourself in audio books. A good reader will help you to hear the music.

8) Put your work in a drawer for a few weeks once it is finished to give you intellectual distance for proofreading, then use the Inklings test: read your work aloud to family, friends, and colleagues. This is the acid test for stylistic elegance and clarity of expression.

9) All writing is autobiography. That’s why writers always say “write what you know.” That’s why the greatest, most distinctive narrative voices leave you feeling as if you’ve met someone. Think of Jane Austen: country life, provincial gentility, and the quest to marry well. That’s what she knew. Reading Jane you’d never even know the Napoleonic wars were going on. Write what you know.

10) Character construction: Lewis tells us in his Preface to Paradise Lost that no writer can create a better person than themself, as no stream can rise higher than its source. You will also notice that when Lewis turned his hand to constructing the ultimate “good” character, Aslan, he chose to be very spare.

11) Ask for as much criticism as you can get, and leave your ego at the door. Good criticism is the hardest thing to get and the hardest thing to take. When you get it, be grateful – there’s no obligation to accept good advice. Remember, the worst possible thing would be to have your work go out into the world, have every critic blast it for the same defect, THEN have all your friends and colleagues say, “Yeah, I thought so, but I didn’t want to tell you.”

12) Be disciplined: Block out a regular time to write, however short. Make it known to everyone that you are not available at that time: you don’t play with your phone, you don’t check your email. You write.

13) One of the happy by-products of the writing life is that you’ll have daily opportunities consciously to practice both the cardinal and the theological virtues:

Prudence: Don’t quit your day job.

Temperance: Don’t neglect your other duties. Don’t sacrifice your family and friends on the altar of your success. If you’re not successful, it won’t be worth it, and if you’re successful, it still won’t be worth it. Stay balanced.

Justice: Be fair, to yourself and to other writers. When you ask for feedback, listen, and don’t resent honest criticism. You won’t get anywhere without it. Some of your work is going to be good, and some isn’t.

Fortitude: This is the big one. The days you’re rejected are the good days; someone actually noticed you exist. As a writer, you’re going to spend your life, perhaps your whole life, not merely being rejected, but being ignored completely. If you can’t handle that, be a plumber. Everybody is always happy to hear from the plumber. The writing life, as Bette Davis said of aging, “ain’t for Sissies.”

Faith: If it’s your true pathway, it will probably work out. But it might not be your pathway. Faith may mean embracing failure as well as success. Have faith that, if it isn’t your road, the right road will appear. Do what is before you.

Charity: Don’t hate people because they ignore you. Publishers have more manuscripts submitted than they can possibly consider. And don’t hate them for their criticism if you get read. If their criticism is good, you need it. If it’s bad, you’re free to ignore it; if it’s stupid, or hostile, you’re under orders to pray for them.

Hope: Despair will kill the creative impulse. Don’t think about success. Think about being the best writer you can be. Let God worry about the success.

Book Recommendations: The Seven Basic Plots by Christopher Booker; The Classical Tradition by Gilbert Highet; The Road to Xanadu by John Livingston Lowes; J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century by Tom Shippey; Experiment in Criticism by C. S. Lewis. These are all what real literary criticism looks like.

A final thought on humility: There is nothing that is so important in the writing life yet so inherently antithetical to the writing life as humility. The act of writing is itself a monstrous act of egotism. It is inherently self-indulgent. As writers, we like to think of ourselves as creative people, but we don’t actually create anything. We just rearrange what God has placed before us. If you doubt that, try to imagine a new primary color.

I begin each writing session with a prayer: (1) I acknowledge that what I am about to do is a gift from God; (2) I offer my work back to God in the same spirit that a child offers a gift to his father, knowing that he can only give what he has first received from his father; (3) In this receiving and giving back, I ask God to make me the finest writer that I can be in order that I may become the best servant that I can be. Try it. It works. There will be surprises.