Sitting down to what I thought was writing was fun. It was easy; just a stream of conscious thought. The more emotional weight, the more people would love it. Chaotic meant raw, and people would understand that. I was making longer sentences and impressing with descriptors, creating one-off masterpieces. I was going straight to print and it was going to be wonderful. I was a writer. However, I soon realized the importance of writing more concisely.

Verb tense agreement. Who needs it?

Should every sentence move the narrative, develop character or revolve around conflict? Right after I finish this sentence.

An Oxford comma?

The first thing was realizing I wasn’t writing well. I was writing easily reduced nonsense. When reduced, I could see the flaws.

Why doesn’t this sound right?

This isn’t adding anything.

“…the adverb carries the same meaning as the verb (“smile happily.”)” (Zinsser)

Is it time for me to take accountability and face up to my wasteful, nonsensical ways? Or do I declutter?

The simple lesson lesson I learned:

Less Is More When It Comes To Writing More Concisely

To do anything well, I can’t be distracted by the unnecessary and unrelated. This leads to writing even more nonsense. It feeds on itself.

Do I have an outline?

Is the work moving forward?

Submitting what I knew was an A on a project titled ‘Writing to Locate.’ I could not have been more deflated when I saw the graded draft. I jumped to writing whatever came to mind and turned in a “Powerful historical reflective written as a set of mini essays.”

The assignment: reflect on how a place has shaped and influenced me as a writer.

I poured my heart out. They didn’t get it. The laptop slammed shut, and I found somewhere else to be. When calm, I looked back over the assignment. I’d clung to bits of the instructions, and not the important ones. What I turned in was a journal-style series of riffs on a place that was personal to me—nothing like the examples they gave, and not on assignment.

Failing to read the instructions, I became distracted by my clutter. I piled more on. I then trimmed the excess – seeing the reduced version, I repurposed what I could, and threw out half of the 6-plus hours of work.

I realized, maybe I’m not so good at this. Research and practice are desperately needed. No matter how much I wanted to produce a masterpiece, I had no idea how the parts functioned. I’m awful at receiving feedback, and I couldn’t stay on topic. Feeling imposter syndrome setting in, or the less dramatic explanation: self-doubt. I felt I had failed all at once. Ready to quit, and live life the way I had previously. I’m good at watching TV, I should stick with that.

No, no, no! I won’t buckle to adversity so easily!

What I need is a plan. I love to read, which in turn makes me want to write. So why not read about writing? I listen to podcasts in the morning. Why not about writing? Why not repurpose the time to help me improve? It’s all so simple, I can’t look back without embarrassment at the amount of time spent convincing myself not to or I’d get to it later, when all I had to do was work to be better at it.

I studied aspects of my business life to become better at remodeling or writing contracts. I learned more that the average disc golfer about course design and flight turbulence. Why was I building walls around writing? Maybe not walls, more like hanging a no trespassing sign on a  shabby gate. I was afraid of admitting how bad I was at it. No one is born good at writing, we all start from zero. Some of us just work harder at it than others. You must work at it to get better.

Time to set some goals.

Goal 1: More concise writing needs a better foundation.

Reading about Abraham Lincoln in Wisdom Takes Work. Ryan Holiday talks about how he used to copy books just to “feel” the work (Holiday). A technique called copy work. As part of my writing education, I will read books on grammar and style and type them as I read. Interacting with the material on several different levels.

One of my biggest issues is that I don’t know what I don’t know. Typing these polished sentences about writing, its parts, and assembling them can’t hurt. When Abe ran out of paper, he took to carving the words into wood (Holiday). Blocking out 30 minutes of my day for this should be easy.

Goal 2: Writing practice. Study how others write concisely.

I can’t just copy others’ work; I need to produce my own. I can create one or two blog posts to apply what I learn and work through exercises. That, in addition to my daily journals and weekly schoolwork, is a lot of writing. I will settle into my own style while refining my process through productivity.

Goal 3: Embrace the process. I will write more concisely in time.

A shift in perspective will surely help. I cant take feedback so personally. I need to embrace mistake. That twinge of embarrassment is a cue to learn. Writing can be hard work. Writers make it seem like hard work, sharing stories of publisher rejections and transcripts filled with red ink from projects that consumed years of their lives. They find reward in the finished product and learn to love the process. My low-risk, low-reward feedback pales in comparison. I need to stop being so hard on myself and seek growth opportunities.

Goal 4: Learn by reduction. The more you subtract the more concise your writing becomes.

Declutter. The quality of writing will improve when I remove. It will be easier for the readers to understand when I don’t bury the subject under adverbs, prepositions, and adjectives. I will be ruthless with a red pen. When I remove, I will see the bones. How they fit, what could be done differently.

Looking at this reduction, hopefully a more nuanced understanding of sentence structures, and how to shape them will engage instead of confuse—more focus on moving the writing’s goals forward while carrying the reader with me.

Printing out the smaller projects gives me a physical difference in medium. I have a habit of editing and revising while drafting, which slows the process. Separating the process physically helps me focus on each task. Computer means I’m drafting. Paper means I’m editing. I then retype the document with corrections and make revisions when I’m done. Not the most efficient process, but I’m spending time with the different steps and refining my practice. This seems to be the best way for me.

These concepts are also thousands of years old. In the Gregory Hayes translation of Meditations, Marcus Aurielius advises, “…Don’t gussy up your thoughts. No surplus words or unnecessary actions…” (Hayes 3.5). Writing in his personal journal while he was emperor he could of used as many words as he liked. I’ll talk more about Marcus in another post. He’s my favorite of the stoics.

The time spent stubbornly learning the hard way is frustrating to quantify. Numerous resources are available, allowing us to avoid trial and error. I’ve been working with On Writing Well by William Zinsser for this stage of my practice. What resources have you found helpful in your writing practice? Whether it’s books, podcasts, courses, or workshops, I’d like to learn about your journey and perhaps discover something new for myself. Let me know in the comments!

Happy editing!

Works Cited

Hayes, Gregory. Meditations. United Kingdom: Penguin Random House LLC, 2002. Book.

Holiday, Ryan. Wisdom Takes Work. New York: Portfolio / Penguin, 2025. Book.

Zinsser, William. On Writing Well. New York: HarpersCollins Publishers, 2016. Book.