Learn How to Write Fiction

Writing is About Always Learning and Implementing What You Learn. And Writing. Always Writing.

My sister, after a diverse life lived, has decided to write her memoir. Or rather, a memoir with a little fiction in it. And some jokes. And a dash of the history of New York, in particular Manhattan, where she was born and raised. She’s highly educated, but she’s never written a book. Not a memoir, a novel, a novella, a collection of essays or short stories. Nothing. BUT her brother—aka me—is a writer. And if you’re a writer (or someone wanting to be a writer and have been at it for a little while) you know what’s in store for my sister. It isn’t pretty. But it is exciting. And I can hear the eagerness and enthusiasm in her voice when I speak to her about the book she’s decided it’s time to write because she’s been doing it for just over two weeks. And I get it. It is exciting. But there’s also that niggling little thing in the back of my mind that says this: Is she going to last? I hope so. But from experience, the chances aren’t all that great.

The way I learned to write years and years ago was by writing. At least initially, that’s how it was for me. For some reason, I picked up a pen and started writing poetry when I was sixteen years old. Obviously, it was horrible. But I kept a book and one day a friend snuck my book out of my backpack at school and within a day or two I had a female fan hanging around my locker. Apparently, she’d read my poetry and thought I was some sort of artiste. Or in touch with my emotions. Or something. Whatever it was, I didn’t care; someone had read my “work” and so I had an “audience,” and I was hooked. I think I enjoyed the freedom writing gave me, even if my writing mimicked the style of some other writer or writers (I’m guessing I was copying someone). I thought, Look at me! I’ve discovered this thing I do that I enjoy doing and that, when someone else reads (and validates) what I’ve written, I get something out of it. But I needed to learn how to do it. And that self-awareness didn’t just come to me; it took time.

There’s this thing called the ten-thousand-hour rule of mastering anything that’s been popularized by Malcolm Gladwell, author of The Tipping Point, Blink, Outliers, and others that says if you devote 10,000 hours to a specific skill, you’ll achieve world-class expertise in it, whether it’s writing, music, or anything else. You can see the video here. While there are detractors, and exceptions, I personally believe in the rule. Or, I believe in it as long as you put the actual work in, are curious, open to suggestions and constructive criticism, take classes, research on your own, and do all of the things one must in order to not only learn but understand that you’ll need to continue learning well beyond the 10,000 hours. Learning anything, for me, at least craft-wise, is a life-long venture. You’re free to disagree. At any rate, here’s what I’d recommend if you want to learn how to write fiction.

Be Curious When Learning How to Write. Read Widely. Study the Greats. See What They Do.

The Steps to Learning How to Write (not necessarily in this order)

1.     Be curious. If I want to do anything without wasting my time, I start researching. Before I applied for my BA in English Literature, my MA in Literature in English, and my MFA in Creative Writing, I read books on writing. I went to writing workshops. I watched old writing videos where authors I admired talked craft. These are shortcuts you can take before you sit yourself in a chair tormenting yourself over how bad your writing is as you’re learning the craft.

2.     Take a Writing Class. Writer’s Digest, Udemy, MasterClass, Coursera, and other online platforms provide free and paid courses you can take at your own pace. They’re informative and convenient. You can also search for local writing classes and groups in your area. Depending on your learning style, try more than a few to see what best fits your needs and your comfort level. Some in-person groups aren’t going to meet your requirements, either for personal reasons or skill level. Early on I attended a few, but I’d already reached a certain level of skill and so I ended up moving on to graduate programs.

3.     Read Widely. There’s no substitute to reading good books on the craft of writing but also books in the genre you want to write in (assuming you’re writing fiction). Read with intention. Read out of your comfort zone. As Francine Prose says, Read like a writer. That means focus on what’s working and what’s not working. How does an author make you feel emotion? What words does the writer use? How do they create the worlds in which their characters live? When characters speak to each other, do you know who’s speaking? Do you understand how themes permeate the work? These are all elements of fiction you should pay attention to and document however you prefer in order to consume and understand what you’ll have to do in order to write like the pros you love to read and the ones who are published and that sell.

4.     Do Writing Exercises. There is a pretty set list of the elements of fiction we must all consider when writing fiction, especially in the beginning. Not all of us instantly pick up on what’s required or what we must include/exclude when we’re first starting out. This goes back to the research you must do, not only through the teachings of others but through your reading like a writer. Here are some of the elements you should be aware of and concentrate on becoming an expert in executing:

a.     Plot

b.     Theme

c.     Character

d.     Scene

e.     Dialogue

f.      World Building (doesn’t have to be a fantasy world; it can be the post office, the street, whatever). 

g.     Point of View

h.     Style

i.       Person (First person, second person, third person, etc.)

j.      Symbolism

k.     Voice

l.      Resolution

m.   Exposition

n.     Tone

o.     Rising Action

p.     Falling Action

q.     Protagonist

r.      Antagonist

s.     Dialect(s)

t.      Pace

u.     The stakes at hand, and so on.

I’d recommend working on each one of these either during the act of writing or just individually. Sometimes when I’m writing and I get stuck, I switch to writing dialogue. Or scene. Or mapping out what I think the plot should be. Always move forward. Go back and grab a novel and see how the author accomplishes what you’re trying to accomplish. Want to write books like George Saunders? Read his work. Jesmyn Ward? Read hers. You can copy at first (I’ve copied whole chapters just to feel what a good chapter feels like), or just mimic, at first, what an author does and riff off of that. Whatever helps you improve one of the elements, do it.

5.     Consider a BA, MA or MFA program. I’ve done all three. You don’t need to do any of them, but I found that it forces you to be present and to participate in the act of studying and producing writing and literature. By the time I started my MFA program in Creative Writing, I had already had short stories published in literary journals. But I was writing novels, which is my first love. So, I needed to be around novel writers. I also started attending a writing conference in Taos, New Mexico, which was run by the University of New Mexico’s creative writing department. It no longer exists, but I still attend most years with a group of writing friends, all of whom write novels. It’s my yearly Super Bowl, as it forces me to write a first draft of a novel once a year.

6.     Force Yourself to Write Daily. I get it. This is a difficult one. But it isn’t that difficult. Set aside a couple of hours to just write. Or twenty minutes—whatever you can spare. Work on something, even if you stray from what you want to write. There is no such thing as “writer’s block,” only being unable to write what you want to write when you want to write it. Can’t write what you want? Write dialogue. Or create a scene you’ll include somewhere in your work later on. You may not use any of it, but you’re writing, and sometimes you have to write things that you won’t use. At least not in what you’re writing at the moment. Everything you write is worth it, even if it’s bad. And there will always be bad writing. That’s what editing is for—to improve what you’ve already written. If you don’t have something written, you can’t edit it. So, write. And remember, one page a day is 365 pages at the end of the year.

In the end, in order to write, you must write. Books and short stories and articles, they don’t write themselves; someone writes them. There’s nothing like writing a book, even if it never gets published or even sees the light of day. It’s an accomplishment. But you need to understand the craft before you think what you write is going to be worth anyone’s time. I’m not saying not to show it and get criticism that’ll help you write better, only that writing takes time. Be patient. Be diligent and curious and consistent in producing words. Don’t be afraid to write a bad first draft; every single author out there has done that, and most still do, even the greats. It’s the editing and rewriting that improves the writing, and that takes time. As a person, you learned to crawl, and then walk, and then run. The same applies to writing. Don’t give up. Learn. Take it all in. And then one day you’ll look at a giant stack of paper and smile. And then you’ll jump right back in because you’ll know what you need to do to make it ready for the world.

The Author, Cully Perlman

Cully Perlman is an author and blogger on the craft of writing. He can be reached at Cully@novelmasterclass.com