At The Write Practice, we publish a new article each day designed to help writers tackle one part of their writing journey, from generating ideas to grammar to writing and publishing your first book. Each article has a short practice exercise at the end to help you immediately put your learning to use.
Check out the latest articles below or find ones that match your interest in the sidebar.
And make sure to subscribe to get a weekly digest of our latest posts, along with our free guide, 10 Steps to Become a Writer.
Writers experience a ridiculous range of emotions throughout the writing process: excitement when a new idea comes along; satisfaction and joy when a work-in-progress is completed; and fear at varying intervals between.
Sadly, for every person reading this post, fear is an issue that must be addressed. It stifles creativity, encourages negativity, and exponentially increases our chances of failure. It’s a toxin that poisons us on a basic, human level. And it’s death to the writing process.
A couple of my friends are synesthetes, which means that they experience reactions from more than one sense from the same stimulus. For example, letters and numbers might have colors, or names might have a flavor. I remember one saying that lockers tasted like chicken nuggets. Of course, she hadn’t actually licked the lockers, and I guarantee that they wouldn’t taste like fried chicken.
I hate vomiting. It’s scary and unpleasant to expel the contents of your stomach. Also, the feeling that goes along with it should be banned worldwide. But vomiting has taught me an important lesson:
How to write!
If you read the writing of the average MFA student, you’ll find perfectly composed, uniquely styled, completely boring stories. What’s the deal? Some of the best, most highly trained writers in the world are producing work few people outside academia wants to read.
Of course, I don’t mean to single out MFA programs. Too many writers—and I at times include myself in this group—are writing navel gazing stories that are perfectly written but lacking everything the average reader looks for in a story.
How do you write fresh, beautiful, experimental stories that are also interesting to read?
Do you love to hear a good secret? The revelation of your character’s inner world makes your story more riveting, more relatable, more real. What is the skeleton in your character’s closet? The explanation for her covert behaviors, paranoia or paralyzing worry? Humanize your character by giving him a surprising revelation.
The city of Denver is slowly picking itself up off its feet after this weekend. While I am happy for Seattle (everyone should have the feeling of victory at least once in a while), it was a really hard game to watch. At the Super Bowl party I attended, by the time the third quarter was winding down, most of us had been through all five stages of grief, and were accepting the comfort of beer and queso. And those stages of grief are the inspiration for today’s post.
I love writing these posts for The Write Practice, and normally, when I sit down to write them, ideas come instantly and unbidden. Today was not one of those days. Today I had no idea what to write.
Write about a couple moving out of their house or apartment.
Write for fifteen minutes. When you’re finished, post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, be sure to leave feedback on a few practices by other writers.
In my holiday post, I discussed the power of myth in storytelling. Today, I’m taking you with me to see how it’s done in a published novel. I recently spoke with Dr. Kenneth Atchity, the author of The Messiah Matrix. Classical scholar and Yale-educated professor of literature and classics as well as film producer, publisher, book reviewer, and literary agent, Dr. Atchity wears many hats—yet none perhaps as enthralling as that of author.
You know you’re not supposed to just tell the reader your character’s history in the first chapter. But when do you tell him? And how do you weave the back story into your novel? Here are some ideas.
