As writing is such a diverse field, one would believe that no two writers are alike – and that’s true. However, successful writers have a blend of traits that help them persist through difficulty and continually hone their skills. Let’s take a look at some of these qualities, with some simple tips on how to improve them.

Curiosity

I would argue that curiosity is the most important quality a writer can have: beyond craft, experience, or training. Curiosity allows you to harvest knowledge from a range of spheres that you can seamlessly integrate as needed. It also makes you a keen observer of both the human and natural world, which infuses authenticity into your writing.

As I’ve discussed before, I am very interested in human nature; it’s the number one influence on my writing. I love to pick apart why people do what they do, whether that is avoiding self-improvement or sabotaging their own success. This comes partly from my many years in therapy but also because, passé as it is to say, I really like human beings as a whole. Not every human I meet, but the general concept of a human, and maybe some specific people too.

My curiosity about people has allowed me to create realistic characters who are imperfect but compelling. This, I think, is both my greatest strength and my greatest triumph, as it took me well over a decade to learn.

Some people are incurious, and I find that their writing comes across as flat and bland. But it’s possible to cultivate curiosity by simply asking questions, like you’re a child again.

Take a look around you and pick one item whose origin you’ve never considered. Give it a quick Google search, then consider what further questions you might have about its production, when it was invented, and so on.

Associative Thinking

Associative thinking is the hallmark of creativity. This cognitive style is able to see the connections between seemingly disparate pieces of information, blending them together in novel ways.

I explained more about my own associative thinking style in my frequently asked questions about writers, showing that it is the foundation for most of the plot points in my books.

The funny thing is what associative thinking often includes a form of amnesia; once we’ve connected two thoughts, we can’t un-connect them, and we can’t understand why others don’t see the logical leap. The new association seems intuitive to us once the link has been made.

Like most thinking styles, associative thinking is not a fixed trait. You can cultivate it through practice. In fact, one of the best ways to do so is based on the stupid early 2000s trivia game: Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. That’s literally an associative thinking style dressed up as a silly pop culture quiz; you’re forcing yourself to work through the connections between two items.

Find two different topics, objects, people, historical events, or whatever you like, and then work through how they might be connected. It might take you a while and require some unusual twists and turns. You can write down your justifications, as you would with a math theorem, until you get to the finish line.

The more that you do this, the more natural it will feel, until you can start seeing the connections between everything without much thought. Over time, this will help you create spontaneous combinations that generate new plot points, characters, worldbuilding lore, or anything else you need for your book.

Strong Working Memory

Even a short story requires synthesizing and remembering enormous amounts of information. The longer the book (or series), the more extreme your memory capacity must be. You are juggling an alternate universe in your head and trying to remember a parallel timeline that has no correlation to real life.

If you’ve ever wondered why writers often seem like they have their heads in the clouds, it’s because we sorta do. There’s a lot going on up there; gets a little foggy sometimes.

I am on the far end of the spectrum because I have my entire ten-part series in my head. Every plot point, every character, every location, every speaking style, every detail. Once I have something in an outline, or once I have written it, bam, it’s locked in the alternative timeline.

It’s a lot, but I trained myself to do this through writing 1.6 million words of fanfic – over 130 stories – and keeping all of that information in my head. Building that long-term working memory took practice, but the very fact that I could make myself do it means others can, too. I ain’t that special.

Memory aids are invaluable. However, you need to ensure you don’t overload yourself with details that you’re not actually going to include. That’s why I discourage lore encyclopedias; they encourage you to make up a bunch of irrelevant bullshit, which you then try to cram into the book anyway.

My double outline method is very valuable for training working memory. You get everything out of you in the long outline, then have to manipulate it again to find what the most essential details are.

This is the same approach that works in studying for tests or memorizing information; the more you play with the study material, the more likely you are to remember it. Your long outline is essentially you creating a “textbook,” and your short outline is your “study guide.”

Project and Time Management

One common reason why like 97% of people who start writing a book don’t finish it is because they focused too much on one single thing: the joy of writing. Which is a big joy, to be sure, but it’s also only a segment of the entire writing process.

Beginner writers understimate how much logistics are involved in getting a book from idea to finished product. They start writing a fun idea that they had, or create a huge outline, and then they’re not sure what to do next. They write once every two weeks, and because they’re not being consistent, it eventually peters out. Many times, they burn through all their enthusiasm talking about their project with others and then have no energy left for the actual work.

A book is a project, and projects must be managed. From creating your stages of writing to developing a rough timeline of when it should be released, you must break things down into reasonable stages with loose deadlines attached (giving some leeway for life events, of course).

If you’re self-publishing, there are even more steps after you’ve completed the manuscript, because you also have to have it done in time to set up a review campaign, get a book cover, etc. Selfpub authors who write down to the wire are probably not going to be as successful.

When I say “project management,” though, I’m not implying you have to be a certified project manager or have any professional training in that field (though it might help). I’m also not going to give you a definitive guide with a rigid template you have to follow. Your brain might work differently than mine, and that’s okay. It’s the whole joy of writing, after all.

Instead of “follow this and that,” I want you to think of your book like a group project …. where everyone else left you with all the work.

You play all the group project team members, which are just different parts of you. There’s the Planning part, the Research Part, the Writing part, the Editing part, and so on. Each of these team members joins in at a different stage of the process and builds upon the other members’ work.

You don’t throw the planning team member into writing, nor do you make them work simultaneously. They each have their roles, and they each move in sequence.

This is because those different aspects of the writing process – plotting, research, writing, editing – all use different skillsets and parts of the brain. We already know that multitasking doesn’t work; you’re rapidly shifting back and forth between two cognitive styles and performing worse in both fields. So remember that each member of your little group project can’t work on two things at once, nor should they butt in and start working before it’s their turn.

And like any project, you must be able to manage your time. Know when you need to start writing your book, how long it typically takes to finish a rough draft, how much time you need for editing, and what that looks like from day to day. Do you need a concentrated two hours of writing each day to get your goals done? If you can only write for 15 minutes at a time, when does that happen and how do you ensure it happens?

How can you eliminate obstacles to your writing time, like kids interrupting you or getting distracted by your phone? How do you keep yourself honest when you’re working? What will keep you motivated on those hard days?

Persistence

Readers often have the misconception that a book just pops out of the writer’s head. They never see the process behind the curtain and, if a book is well-crafted, never need to think about it because the story seems perfectly formed.

I wish that were true, but the reality is much different. Writing can be frustrating, exhausting, stressful, and – yes – boring at times. I hate final polishes and find it an absolute chore. Marketing is my nemesis. I’d rather rip my skin off than write blurbs.

But I am also annoyingly persistent. When I give myself a project, I intend to see it to the finish line, no matter how hard it gets. The Eirenic Verses series is going to include ten main books, a novella, and a poetry anthology, not to mention paperback versions once everything’s out on ebook. It will take me at least seven years to complete, which is quite a long time to stay dedicated to something.

Building persistence requires practice, mindfulness, and future-oriented thinking. Set an intention, like finishing your draft, and then break it down into the stages of writing until each one feels manageable.

Be as nitpicky as you need to, like planning to write 100 words a day or revise half of a chapter. Some people need less structure, and some need more. Find the balance that works for you.

But then, here’s the hard part … you gotta commit to it. That’s why setting very small goals is helpful, because then you get the dopamine hit each time you reach a milestone. Then you want more, so you do more.

The goal is to develop forward momentum so that everything flows into the next piece. Once you get going, it’s easier to keep going. Initial resistance is often the most challenging thing to tackle.

Humility

I say it all the time: ego is a dangerous poison for writers. Egotistical authors become calcified and cannot improve because they already think they are perfect (when they almost certainly are not). They are resistant to feedback and very vulnerable to criticism because they depend on being the best at everything in order to feel good about themselves.

But humility goes hand-in-hand with good self-esteem, which is crucial to continuing with any project or activity. Thinking you’re pretty okay but can get better makes you want to strive forward, whereas ego tosses you into a brick wall and you can’t go any further.

I saw a post a while ago that harmonizes beautifully with my own perspective on how to break down your ego: finding something else you’re terrible at and trying to improve at that skill.

And, of course, we tend to hate things we’re not good at, which is why we don’t do them and why they feel awful.

Now, the anonymous poster found a form of exercise they despise, but you can pick just about anything you’re bad at. I pay to get humiliated by a horse every single week, pathetically slunking myself in the saddle while my instructor tries really hard to say I’m not that bad.

Being horrible at this activity reminds me that they are plenty of things I am not good at. I’m forced to accept my limitations, and this makes me more willing to accept criticism in things I am good at.

People who don’t try anything they’re bad at often fall into the Dunning-Kruger trap, where they try to “well ackthually” someone who does know what they’re talking about. Often said individuals will go on passionate (but wrong) rants, misapplying terms and digging in their heels when they’re corrected.

Then they run into someone who knows more about the topic, or who has a penchant for knowing how to Google things, and they have their head metaphorically slammed into a table. Many such cases, especially with men on social media. Poor dears.

Enough about my Facebook crusades. Should such a Dunning-Kruger cougar pick up a pen, their overconfidence would bleed into their writing. They’d be certain that everything they did was perfect, and if they were told they’re doing something wrong, they’d have a total freakout and never try writing again.

So get comfortable being bad at things. Be clumsy, embarrassed, overwhelmed. Let yourself get corrected about things you don’t understand instead of fighting to the death about your convictions.

Intrinsic Motivation

Whether you are planning to be traditionally published or go the self-publishing route, you must have at least some intrinsic motivation. Those who need constant reassurance and feedback at every step of the process are never going to get anything done because they will stop every five seconds to ask someone for help.

This is also why you rarely see serious authors on writing subreddits asking basic questions or begging for workshopping from strangers. Experienced writers don’t need constant validation because they’re comfortable going it alone.

I’m not saying that you never need feedback or will never get a little insecure. Sometimes you want someone to tell you what they liked about your work; sometimes you’re not sure if you hit the right note and need a second opinion. Writers often get blind to their work, or are unaware of how much they’re filling in the blanks, and that alternative perspective makes sure their intention is legible to someone else.

But here’s the key part: the feedback, or lack thereof, doesn’t diminish your motivation. It’s just another input. You can still function as a writer if you don’t get any feedback from anyone. You’ll still publish even if no one reads it because you wanted to do it for its own sake.

The other facet about intrinsic motivation is that the work itself is the reward, not the attention/sales/fame. Those things are nice to have, but if they don’t materialize, then the work is still a success because you enjoyed doing it.

I will say that despite intrinsic motivation being one of the most important things on this list, it is also the hardest to cultivate. We are trained practically from birth to need validation from others and to trust the group consensus more than our own needs.

Some people, like otroverts, are far more resistant to group validation and aren’t easily swayed by others, while others (the so-called communal personality types) need to feel they belong somewhere and will struggle with independently-oriented work. And that’s not a personal failing; it’s just how some people are.

But even if you can’t magically become the James Dean Rebel Without a Cause, you can still enhance your intrinsic motivation through some of the exercises I mentioned in the above linked post.

Writing isn’t a mystical process, and while experienced writers have honed their brains to fit a certain mode of thinking, they weren’t innately talented. Even if they did have a tendency toward a certain thinking style, that talent would have been wasted without the pracice.

Anyone can be a writer if they want to be, no matter their background or skill set. All of the elements I have mentioned above probably exist within you in some form, and they can be strengthened through intentional practice.

I don’t gatekeep writing because there’s nothing to gatekeep. There’s no such thing as a “natural writer;” even dyslexics can become remarkable wordsmiths. It takes time, consistency, and practice, but you can do it too.