The only writing advice that EVERYONE needs to hear

& recs for your summer reading + watching list(s)

Write what you want to write before you write it.

Sometimes I feel as if I’ve read all the books on writing, listened to all the podcasts, read all the newsletters and blog posts, seen every tweet thread before. There’s a lot of writing advice out there. Some of it’s insightful, even life-changing; some of it should be taken with a grain of salt; and some of it can be incredibly damaging. The bottom line, I’ve found, is that the only good writing advice (for you) is the writing advice that gets you to the page. Anything else should be ignored.

But now that I’ve given you that disclaimer … I’d like to share the one piece of writing advice that I believe applies to every single writer: Write the thing you want to write before you actually write it.

In concrete terms, I mean that you can always start writing by getting the roughest, earliest version of what you want to say on the page. For some writers, that means a messy first draft where you have no idea where the writing is going. For others, it means a rough outline that can be sketched out in fragments and then developed before it’s time to start writing in full sentences.

Some writers swear by diving into a rough first draft, while other writers cling to their outlines (no surprise, I’m a big outliner), but no matter what you call it, I think these two writer groups are doing the same thing: getting down that essential first take, whether it’s in complete sentences or not.

For a long time, I thought that good writing flowed out magically, and if well-crafted sentences weren’t landing on the page one after another, then I wasn’t writing. But no one can write under that kind of pressure. You must start somewhere, anywhere, and very few of us will start with perfectly formed sentences. Keep the vision in your mind of what you want the writing to be (eventually), but don’t let it deter you from getting down that first draft. You’re not yet writing the Great Thing that’s luring you to the page; for now, you’re only writing about what you want to write about.

For people who love “weird” movies and/or coming-of-age stories:

Spontaneous is not a subtle movie. It takes ephemeral concepts – the uncertainty of life and the precious fleeting human experience of being young – and illustrates them with a graphic metaphor: high school students who can’t seem to stop spontaneously exploding. This weird little film (dubiously billed as a “science fiction romantic black comedy”) may not have felt as resonant in any year prior to 2020, but its prescient timing makes Spontaneous a canny Gen Z parable. You couldn’t blame a generation trapped inside for more than a year and missing experiences they’ll never get back for living on the edge of exploding.

For rom com readers looking for something unique in their next book:

I think Sophie Kinsella is a genius. Known for her bestselling Confessions of a Shopaholic series, Kinsella has built an empire of books centered on funny, plucky heroines figuring out life and love through a series of zany adventures. Her writing goes down with deceptive ease, but the immediate voice pulling the reader in and the structure fitting all the pieces together for the satisfying ending that Kinsella pulls off in each book are incredibly difficult things to do. All that to say: I enjoyed her delightful new romantic comedy, Love Your Life. Kinsella’s take on dating app culture in this standalone novel is timely yet refreshing, and it was unique to read a rom com where the two leads get together as part of the setup and then spend the rest of the book building a real relationship.

For standup comedy fans and/or people fascinated by the art that came out of 2020:

Inside, Bo Burnham’s first special in five years, deserves to be taken in as a complete viewing experience. That being said, let me quickly list some of my favorite moments from this claustrophobic and relentlessly funny special: the meta moment where Burnham comments on his own song and then comments on his commentary and comments on his comments on his commentary; Burnham playing the video game of his average day in COVID self-isolation (alternating between crying and playing the piano); and “White Woman’s Instagram” (self-explanatory).