Growing Your Writing Skills in Daily Life
Life is full of commitments: work, family, health, home maintenance, paperwork for one thing or another.
These things are important; they all tie back to one blessing or another. They also take up time and energy. As we are well aware : With great adulthood comes great responsibility.
A lot of writers don’t get as much time as they’d like to write. For those of us who find writing fulfilling in a deep this-feeds-my-soul-and-makes-me-feel-whole sort of way, it can be really difficult to maintain a positive attitude in the other areas of our life—as wonderful as they may be—that take up our time.
This is something I have had to wrestle with a lot over the years. Recently, I have been trying to approach things a little differently. Instead of separating my identity between who I am as a writer and who I am as a non-writer (i.e. day-job me), I am considering how to be a writer at all times, even when I’m not physically putting words on a page.
Being a writer is a state of mind. It’s seeing the world in a certain way and being able to communicate that perspective to others. Writers are never done growing, never done developing their skills or broadening their understanding of life and people.
Without this understanding, it won’t matter how skilled you are at stringing sentences together. Effective writers draw from their own life experience to infuse their work with depth and authenticity. In order to adequately portray an experience of life, you need to, well, experience life.
Beyond this, all writers should be actively working towards becoming master storytellers. In order to master any skill—storytelling included—it is necessary to pay close attention to the skills we wish to emulate. This can be just as valuable as the act of writing itself.
Here are a few suggestions for all my fellow burnt-out functioning adults out there who wish they had more time to invest in their writer selves:
Stay curious
You don’t need more hours in the day to fit in curiosity. An open mind is something you can take with you into any situation. Instead of getting angry at the guy who cuts you off in traffic on your morning commute, you could think: I wonder why he’s in such a rush. I wonder what’s going through his head right now. I wonder if we have anything in common. Instead of gossiping about one of your colleagues, you could think: I wonder what it’s like to be that person. I wonder what they’re dealing with that I don’t know about. I wonder why they act or talk the way they do. Instead of being inundated by shame when you do something wrong, you could think: I wonder what drove me to do that. I wonder if I can forgive myself and learn from this.
Empathy—an open heart and a lack of judgement—is the foundation to writing authentic, intricate, and believable characters. We are all flawed; we all have stories behind those flaws. A master writer sees to the heart of even the messiest and most unlovable characters; they see their true potential, even if those characters never end up reaching it. Master writers don’t write from a place of judgement; they write from love. This is something we can practice every day by having a gracious attitude towards those around us. Real-life humans may not always seem as exciting as our fictional darlings, but they are arguably more important.
2. Study stories
There’s nothing wrong with letting a good story wash over you and basking in the wonder of it; however, writers can also hone their craft by studying the various methods of storytelling they come across. What do you find particularly effective about the stories you love? Is it the character development? The treatment of setting? The suspense?
Conversely, pay attention to the moments that jar you out of a good story. It could be something simple, such as thoughtless wording. It could also be a deeper issue: a contrived plot point, a character who acts in a way that doesn’t line up with their development, or dialogue that lacks authenticity.
I recently read a thriller in which the protagonist loses her husband in an unexpected explosion. She is panicked and understandably traumatized. Shortly after, she calls her best friend and the two have a conversation about the character’s annoying mother—BEFORE the main character brings up the fact that her husband might have been blown up. This completely pulled me out of the story because the structure of the conversation seemed so unrealistic. The dialogue itself was fine, but the timing of the conversation didn’t make any sense.
I also experienced this feeling of “offness” while watching a TV show this week. The protagonist had suffered a terrible defeat in battle, then in the next episode, he was back to his normal self. It bothered me so much that I wrote a new scene in my head to give the protagonist a more believable emotional arc. If I had a time machine, I would go back and track down the show’s writers to make my case (and yes, I’ve seen enough movies to know that this could mess with the fabric of the universe, but I’m pretty sure it would be worth it).
Non-writers may notice these moments when something is “off” in a story, but it’s a writer’s job to look deeper and ask themself why a particular moment has fallen short. Whatever their conclusion, a writer can be on the lookout for similar patterns in their own work and figure out how to resolve any issues before a time machine becomes necessary.
3. Active observation
Keep your senses open to the world around you. The next time you’re waiting in a line somewhere, put your phone in your pocket and observe your surroundings. Look at the people. Look at the room. Listen to the sounds. Notice the smell, the textures. You can do this anywhere. Everywhere. Drink the world in. The more you notice in real life, the more truthful your writing will become.
Last thought: It can be useful to think of metaphors to match your observations. What does the stairwell remind you of as you leave the office at work? A mineshaft? A castle tower? The entrance to the Underworld? What about the guy you walk past in the parkade? Is he more of a Fagin or a Count Dracula? What does the row of trees in front of your apartment building look like? What about the sunset? What about the stars? The more you see images and metaphors around you, the more your work will come alive with them.
I hope these ideas are helpful. Remember, being a writer is not something you do. It’s someone you are. Go out and be the kind of person who keeps an open heart and mind. Practice empathy. Be discerning. Keep looking for the joy.