Practice Thinking by (just) Writing

Thinking is an embodied activity. When we write, we create structured insight from a flow of thoughts and sensations. Writing practice conditions your thinking and encourages it to flow. The best writing teacher is a healthy relationship with your own mind.

The practice is simple: just write. Move your pen.

Most of us approach “writing” as an assigned task. We construct an artifact that someone else will read, grade, apply to a problem or “review”. We imagine what other people want to read so we can write that. We follow rules we’ve been taught about what is good, right, enough, correct, acceptable, and necessary. Unless we are a poet, this usually means making our ideas succinct, understood, acceptable. If you are a technologist, like me, it means “concrete”.

Perhaps we have a structure in mind — a blog post, a presentation, a how-to guide. We squeeze ourselves into that structure. We search for advice about how to write it. (We don’t, of course, ask ChaptGPT to write it, because that would be cheating, right?)

We hope, upon completion, that we will persuade or entertain (or both). We hope readers will like us — will listen. We hope, writing can get us something we need or earn other’s respect or win us a literary prize or attract a million page views or ensure a job offer. 

Writing is a loaded activity. What if we say the wrong thing? What if people humiliate us in a meeting, on social media, in our own imaginations? You’ve probably taught to write (say and think) what other people want you to write (say and think). 

The first rule of writing practice is: don’t do that. Do not practice writing for others. (You might end there, though perhaps not in the way you expect.) 

Practice, everyday, listening to yourself. Begin by just writing.

Every morning, wake up, grab a pen, and write.

That’s it. Don’t overcomplicate it.

Listening to your own mind

Right now, you have attitudes, opinions and ideas. Many of them are wrong. Some of them are incredibly valuable. Writing is the practice of discerning the difference.

You hide things, even from yourself, to protect your sensitivities, like avoiding ice cream when your tooth is sensitive. Your thoughts, most of the time, are a reaction to what other people say, do or feel. A reaction to your experiences. Those reactions govern a large percentage of the thoughts you share with others.

As you practice, you discover that you stay stuck in a continuous loop of reacting, like our thoughts are velcro that get stuck on whatever we rehearse in our minds. That thing we wish we said, wanna say, didn’t say, might never say, try not to say. What we can’t understand. What we wish were different.

Writing helps us drop the reactions.

Our thinking process includes a lot of noise, cognitive bias and incongruity. That’s okay! Daily practice helps us access a deeper, more meaningful response to our circumstances. Distracted as we are by our reactions, we don’t often hear our deeper, more meaning responses. But as we practice, we go deeper. 

Writing is learning to respond, rather than react. By creating structure from our messy tangle of ideas. Perhaps we even learn to enjoy and appreciate our messiness.

Consistency matters

You (probably) have avoidant habits when it comes to writing. We all do, even famous writers. If you decide to practice, you’ll come up with many compelling reasons not to practice. So, so, so many reasons. Those reasons might be valid … but they probably aren’t. Only experience will reveal them.

Nobody else knows how your practice should evolve. As you discover what does, and doesn’t, work for you — adapt. I’m giving you a starting place and encourage you to start there. While recognizing that I can’t know what’s best for you.

You can’t know what’s best for you either, if you don’t practice and find out.

Writing isn’t a chore. We aren’t trying to follow rules, like dieting, that lead us to a goal, like weight loss. Thinking is a natural activity, like breathing. We are simply improving our relationship to it. It’s not like you don’t have thoughts in the morning. You are simply paying attention to them. Over time, writing will erupt into other times or your day and infuse your experiences with more depth, color, vibrancy, integrity and authenticity. We do the practice, and the practice does us in return.

Lofty words. Go see if they are true.

How to (just) write

Wake up every morning, pick up a pen (or pencil or crayon), open a notebook (or any writable surface, a paper bag even) and write. 

There is only one rule: keep your hand moving. If you don’t know what to write, write “omg I don’t know what to write this it is stupid and maybe I’ll have a donut for breakfast and why can’t I go eat a donut now and I can’t believe Bill thinks he’s a real writer when he’s probably still in bed and recommends The Davinci Code and omg this is so dumb and I don’t know what to write.” 

Or … something like that.

Keep your hand moving. The more you practice, the easier your flow will flow. Or not. Don’t worry if your words don’t flow. Don’t worry about anything. You can fill the entire time with “this is stupid”. It really doesn’t matter.

You won’t fill the time with “this is stupid”. You’ll settle in.

You’ll learn a lot about what you think. You’ll also learn a lot about what you feel and want and need and can’t tolerate, but those are advanced benefits. The only outcome we seek is to do the practice.

Start tomorrow if possible. (It’s probably possible.)

How long do you write? How long do you keep your hand moving? You have three options, choose one. Caveat: whichever one you choose, stick with it for the next month or two. Later, you can experiment. For now, give your mind consistency. Your mind will relax into the practice — if your mind isn’t simultaneously remaking the decision every day to practice.

Three options (pick one)

1. Fill three pages: You can get the tiniest notebook you can find, but that’s kinda cheating. 5X7 is okay, 8.5X11 is better. You can cut up gift wrapper paper and make pages. The paper doesn’t matter as long as you’re consistent.
2. Set a timer: 20 minutes is an ideal starting time. If you really truly deeply panic at the thought, 10 or 15 minutes. If you already do this practice … maybe add time (or pages), see what happens.
3. Drink a cup of coffee (or tea or whatever): Practice for as long as it takes you to finish something you already do. You can write while you eat toast, whatever you do every morning.

That’s it? Sounds easy, doesn’t it. Hahahahahahahaha, cough, yup, it does. Sound easy. It isn’t. However, it is worthwhile. Try it and see.

Frequently asked questions

Do I have to do this first thing in the morning? I am NOT a morning person.

Yes.

I have children or dogs or a long commute, I don’t have time. Do I really have to do this first thing in the morning?

Yes.

(I have gotten up at 3:30am to practice before heading to the airport. So I’m not the most empathetic person when it comes to “reasons why I can’t get up 10 or 20 minutes earlier to do this”.)

I don’t like writing by hand. Can I use a computer?

No.

Seriously, I’m a technologist. Wake up and smell the digital era. Using a computer is the same thing, right?

Nope, it really isn’t. 

(Most of our writing will be digital but not this.)

How about an iPad with a stylus? Or an e-ink tablet? Those are the same as by hand, right?

Nope. 

(Okay, maybe. Write by hand for a few weeks then try the tablet. See if they are the same. I have fallen in love with Remarkable — but the IPad was never a good option for me.)

What if I hate doing it? Maybe this isn’t for me?

Hate is interesting. What does hate feels like? Write all the reasons why you hate this.

Can I make coffee first?

Yes.

Can I shower first?

I don’t recommend it. Your mind will wander away from writing and you will follow it.

Do I show anyone my morning practice?

Nope, never. This is only for you.

(Really, don’t do this. You can extract things, if you like, but create a space that’s just for you.)

What if I really get stuck?

Write a letter about how stuck you are.

What if I miss a day or two?

Write today.