Stop thinking about writing and write!
Thinking about writing does not make you a writer: writing and publishing does.
Gary Bloomer | SHAKING THE TREE # 278
If you call yourself a “beginner content creator,” stop thinking about writing.
Stop planning to write.
Stop telling people you’re going to write.
Just write.
And then publish it.
There is the only way you’ll become a writer.
Thinking about writing does not make you a writer. Reading about writing, talking about writing, buying courses about writing—none of these things make you a writer.
The rule is simple: you are a writer if, and only if, you write. Writers write. The wannabe writers only ever talk about writing. Don’t be one of them.
I’ll give you an example.
A family friend has a son—bright kid, late 20s, reads a lot, loves ideas, works in communications for a small nonprofit.
For years now, he’s been going to be a writer.
He talks about the novel he’ll write, the Substack he’ll launch, the viral thread he’ll post. Whenever I see him I’ll often ask him how his writing is going. He’ll invariably talk about writing styles, about writing influences, about the things he’s reading and about his search for the perfect writing app. All to the good.
He’s a walking, talking writing workshop—except there’s just one small fly in the ointment: he doesn’t write. Not really. Not finished things anyway. Not things that go out into the world.
While he’s in love with the idea of being a writer, with the concept of writing, he’s less keen on the act of writing, on the physical necessity of sitting down at a keyboard or a typewriter and banging out something. Anything.
And that, my friends, is the trap of wanting to write but not doing the work. It’s the act of assuming the identity of the thing: the musician, the fashion designer, the architect, without the burden of doing any of the essential work. The dream without the grind.
So here’s my blunt advice for him, and for every beginner creator stuck in the same loop:
1. Lower the bar—dramatically.
Your first 10 to 50 pieces do not need to be good. They just need to exist. In fact, they’ll probably be crap—and that’s OK because you need to be OK with it being OK.
Forget about making every piece perfect. Perfectionism is a fool’s errand, it’s fear of standing out. Write something short, pithy, and gritty. Write something messy, smeared, and grubby. Write something honest, true, and open.
And then, and without thinking about it, then hit “publish” before your brain can talk you out of it.
2. Build the habit, not the portfolio.
No writer worth their salt sets out to write a masterpiece. Instead, they sit down and they get something out on paper or onto a screen every single day. If you don’t make writing a habit it won’t happen on a regular basis and if it’s not happening on a regular basis the chances are that it will happen less and less until it stops.
Aim to write every day, or at least every week, no matter what. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Write until the timer dings. Do that before you’re allowed to watch, scroll, or consume any other media. Writing is a verb—it’s an action, occurrence, or a state of being. Treat it like one. Honour it.
3. Publish early, publish often.
A draft in your notes app is a diary entry. A published piece—even it’s on a free blog platform, or as a LinkedIn post, or even as a humble email to ten friends—that published piece is an act of honest, anthemic creation.
It’s a statement: I made this. It’s alive.
Maybe it won’t be any good (and that’s OK, right?), but it’s in those spaces of not being any good where the act of learning happens. That’s where a writer is born.
4. Swap “someday” for “today.”
lots of writers hold off on writing anything because they’re waiting for the perfect idea. Sadly, it’s not coming. Not any time soon anyway.
Don’t wait for the perfect idea, the perfect platform, the perfect quiet morning with artisan coffee. Instead, write about the thing that annoyed you yesterday.
Write a 300-word review of the last thing you watched on Netflix or on HBO or wherever. Write a letter to your younger self. Write a letter to yourself dated a year from now in which you summarize the last twelve months. Just pick something small and ship it.
5. Embrace the cringe.
From time to time I look back at the stuff I wrote two years ago and I wince at how bad my stuff was. While it would be easy to go back and delete it all, it’s better for it to stand as a testament of how far I’ve come and of how much I’ve grown. The only people who don’t feel embarrassment at the things they wrote a year ago are the ones who never started.
So, to that young man—and to every aspiring creator reading this I say: get to work. Stop dilly dallying and pull your finger out.
Here’s what I want you to do once you’ve finished reading this: close this tab. Open a blank one. Then write one true sentence. Then another. Then slap a title on it and put it where someone else can see it.
Do that enough times, and you won’t need to tell people you’re a writer.
They’ll already know.
— Gary Bloomer
As always, thanks for reading.
—Gary
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P.S. If you found this useful, share it with another creator who needs an ego check (in a nice way). Want more unfiltered takes on content creation? Join my newsletter. No fluff, just the stuff that works.
Next time on Shaking the Tree: Nouns and verbs and adjectives, oh my!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Originally from the U.K., Gary Bloomer is a writer, branding advocate, marketing specialist, and an award-winning graphic designer.
His design work has been included in Creative Review (one of the UK’s largest design magazines). Since 2009, he has answered over 5,000 marketing and business questions in the Know-How Exchange of MarketingProfs.com, placing him among the top 3% of contributors. He lives in Wilmington, Delaware, USA.