Ten Bad Writing Habits to Break Right Now

A student in my Master Class recently asked if I had any bad writing habits. I just snorted in reply. Of course I do. Lots. But the question provoked me to be honest with myself about what they are, and to consider sharing them with you. So here they are: Ten bad writing habits to break right now. The point of posting them is to prevent you from developing them, though I admit that I’m still working on all of them.

Do Not Imitate

When in college, I was a true liberal arts dabbler, trying nearly everything, including a full year of painting classes in a large sun-lit studio. Picture 20-year-old me facing a six-by-six-foot canvas we were assigned to fill in one afternoon. Picture me, an elated paint-smudged undergrad standing back on my heels admiring my huge work as my professor stepped up and offered that I might like to do more on that canvas than merely document the color of the clothes I had on.

I was silent. He looked me up and down and then nodded to the huge canvas. I looked me up and down and realized that the green-to-white ombre, tie-dyed smock I was wearing was replicated in paint. We matched. Literally.

Point made: We can always do better than merely imitate what’s around us.

Lesson: Do not write the next Wild. Write what you know.

Have No Fear of Fear

Along with a lovely painting studio, St. Lawrence University, my beloved alma mater, has a magnificent equestrian stable. In my senior year, I ventured inside. I knew how to ride, but the idea of jumping had always created in me that distinct terror that can only come from feeling incomplete. Jumping was offered as a gym course, so off I went three mornings a week, crying with fear every single time. Then one morning, me and Coloring Book, the trusty mare to whom I had been assigned, left and returned to the ground with a graceful ease that simply filled a need of that 20-year-old. The completion of that task allowed an integration of an idea and, I only now realize, I moved better in the world knowing that stepping into fear obliterates it. Fearful? Good.

Lesson: Write into your fears.

Do Not Stick to Your Knitting

Education is prickly. It makes us uncomfortable, and, in the process, widens our abilities to think. If you are reading the same old stuff, stop. Stop now. In this somewhat-improved world of diversity, equity and inclusion, we can find art from people whose experiences are other than our own and, as we witness it, we grow. If you don’t believe me, listen to Martha Anne Toll, the book reviewer for The Washington Post and NPR who, in this interview with me, discusses the benefits of reading diversely.

What to read? My immediate suggestions are novels by Tommy Orange or Luis Alberto Urrea, the astonishing Church Lady stories of Deesha Philyaw, and the poetry of Andrea Gibson, to name a few of the well-published writers whose coverage of American indigenous life, Latino life, Black life and non-binary life, respectively, will allow you to move in a larger circle in this world. Remember: You are writing in the world of the now, and to do so successfully, you need to know that world and not merely your own.

Lesson: Do not keep your nose in the same old books.

No Comparisons

Those writers listed above have dug deep into their own experience and produced works that are highly regarded in the public market. Now you need to differentiate you, even if you are writing within a well-covered genre such as recovery memoir. You are you, and the sooner you sound like you, and dig deep into what you know after what you’ve been through, you will have something unique to contribute to the conversation.

As Shakespeare taught us in “Much Ado About Nothing,” “comparisons are odorous,” a phrase we have transposed to “comparisons are odious,” and they are. You are not those writers listed above. You will understand this when you read them. And here’s is a tip: Reading them might make you feel very different from them. You might even feel alone. Good. That means that for far too long you’ve been cozily reading too many people just like you. We are humanity; all alike, all different.

Lesson: Do not compare. Differentiate.

Do Not Speak

In journalism circles we have a word for those who constantly tell you what they could write one day but never get around to writing. They are called “talking journalists,” and it is a derogatory term since actual writers know that the real work is done quietly on one’s own. I write about this in my little book on how to write memoir, but this one idea bears endless repetition. This is not to say you should not engage is a good conversation with someone who is invested in your work. If you have a writing partner, a colleague, a coach or an editor whose intentions are honorable toward your work, talk it out. But do not fill up Thanksgiving dinner with monologues on what you mean to write. No one likes it, no one knows what to do with that information, there is little they can do to help you and you are merely spilling your seed, people, and that never goes well.

Lesson: Stop talking and keep writing.

Accept Nothing as True

Another phrase from the newspaper business that has stayed with me is this: “If your mother says she loves you, check it out.” Simply put, get another source on all things. Yup, even on your mother’s love. Check your facts. All of us have read memoir that includes mothers who insist that love entails doing clever damage to their children. In these pieces, we see a writer trying to convince herself of her own destructive mother’s definitions of love. The number one way to lose a reader is to be inaccurate, and if what you describe on the page as love looks to us like harm, you will lose us.

Check out even your own mother’s love by getting another source, or by reading up on how maternal love is meant to meet the needs of a child. Ask your aunt about where and how her family bestowed love on one another. Read Psychology Today on the ups and downs of familial love. Doing a little more research can only illuminate you on what your mother’s love actually provided. We don’t write to merely confirm things. We write to expand things.

Lesson: Do not believe what you hear.

Do Not Merely Change the Names

I never recommend merely changing names to conceal anyone. Instead, write the whole first draft with the correct names. Why? It will empower your work. Then, in the rewrite, get creative: Give each character a diagnosis or a place on the chessboard. Every single word in your essay, op-ed or book is an expensive piece of real estate, so do not squander that precious space when, with thought, you can more deeply characterize your people. Maybe the person who molested you should be called The Abuser; your mother, the one who did not recognize the abuse, might best be named The Blinded; maybe your father is named The Addled since while he is affected by all the unspoken tension in your household, he is not yet able to act as the empowered Protector you wished him to be. Maybe he evolved into The Protector when you found your voice, and spoke your truth, and you rename him in Act Three. I don’t care what their given names are. I care what they are in your story – what they represent, and what they have come here to do. Be creative. Be you. Write what you truly know to be true.

Lesson: Do not merely call them by their names

Eschew The Memes

There will be many rewrites. Period. You need to love that reality, look forward to it and embrace it. I am desperately sick of all the online memes touting how hard writing can be. Writing is the thing you and I most want to do, so stop laughing at those memes, stop sharing them and, by all means, stop reading them. Instead, return each one of those memes to sender, stop following that person, get off social media and spend that precious time on your rewrites. See those rewrites for what they are: The chance to get it right. Wow. Who doesn’t love that?

Lesson: Kill the memes.

Take No Bad Advice

Writing groups are wonderful. Community is essential. You need writers as friends, and you need that conversation, but remember this: Bad advice is bad advice. Period. If you think someone is giving you a lousy, uninformed critique, they just might be doing exactly that. Don’t get mad. Don’t pout. Dig in. What can you learn from misplaced criticism? Perhaps that your critical reading skills are better than you thought. Then, get a pro on the job in the form of a fine editor whose credentials speak to their abilities. Don’t know where to go? We now have five fine editors at The Memoir Project, waiting to get you where you need to go. Get in touch.

Lesson: Don’t take what you can leave behind.

Do Not Settle

Your writing should get better with every fact check, edit, rewrite, stimulus, fear-inducing, quiet moment spent with it. Better. How do we define better? Simple. Every moment of work should get your piece closer to being a lean, tight expression of your argument that displays for the reader how you learned what you now know.

Lesson: Never avoid the hard work of heightening.

Writing begets writing, and a regular writing practice that takes into consideration these ten do-nots will garner writing that is better than yesterday’s work.

So, here’s your punch list. Now get to work. The world is waiting.

1. Block imitation.
2. Do not be repelled by fear. Step into it.
3. Do not stick to your knitting. Instead, shake up your head.
4. Comparisons are odious.
5. Stop talking about it.
6. Check your facts.
7. Do not merely change the names.
8. Rewrites are wondrous. Dig in. Enjoy the process.
9. Bad advice begins at home and is available everywhere else after that.
10. Do not settle.  Do not stop at pretty good.

Want more? Come take a class with me. We now have both live and recorded classes on how to write memoir. Our live, online memoir classes include:

Memoirama, A 90-minute introductory class in how to write what you know.

Memoirama 2, a 2-hour live, online class in book structure.

How to Write Opinion Pieces, a 90-minute online class in how to write op-eds, radio essays, digital commentary and Substack columns.

The Master Class, a 6-month, class in how to complete a first draft of a memoir.

Our recorded classes include all of the above plus The Fine Art of the Personal Essay.

And please listen in and subscribe to my podcast. It’s called Qwerty, and includes interviews with stellar published writers who answer questions to help you with your work.