A while ago, I was talking to my therapist about how I’ve been struggling to have empathy for people who are in a situation I previously overcame. I logically know that I have had those feelings before; I’ve felt that same hopelessness, frustration, and shame when tackling a difficult problem. However, now that I have overcome it, the answer seems so obvious and straightforward that I cannot fathom why said person hasn’t come to the same conclusion.

My therapist introduced me to “the curse of knowledge,” a cognitive bias where we assume everyone else has the same knowledge base we do. I’ll let Decision Lab take it away:

When we know something, it can be hard to imagine what it would be like not knowing that piece of information. In turn, this makes it difficult to share our knowledge because we struggle to understand the other party’s state of mind. The curse of knowledge can profoundly affect how information is communicated, particularly by experts and educators. These individuals often struggle to convey complex concepts effectively because they have difficulty imagining what it’s like for others to lack the depth of knowledge they possess.

This often comes with hindsight bias, where we believe that the logical conclusion is more obvious than it necessarily was because we have the gift of hindsight. Writers fall into this trap as well, particularly when crafting our stories. We know the ending of our story and think that either a) the foreshadowing is obvious, so people shouldn’t be surprised by the twists, or b) the story won’t excite anyone because they can predict the ending.

However, I’m talking about something a little different here; specifically, how hard it can be for more experienced writers to give good advice because, well, we already know what we’re explaining.

Much as I want to help other writers, I often find it challenging to understand why they’re struggling.

Having been at this craft for over 15 years, and having written over 2 million words of fiction (yes, I tabulated it all), I feel it is part of my duty to give back through writing advice. I want others to gain just as much enjoyment, fulfillment, and self-actualization as I have in writing.

However, I have been at this so long that so much of the writing process just feels automatic. Themes insert themselves without my knowledge; people point it out, and I sheepishly admit I didn’t mean to include that. Characters are differentiated because that’s just who they are to me, and I’m writing them same as I can auto-predict what a loved one would say in a certain circumstance.

I’m not telling you this to brag. You will get to that point too. Likely, you will be in the same boat I am: baffled as to why glaring issues you see in other peoples’ writing aren’t apparent.

You’ll be able to diagnose issues with your work and only rely on beta readers/editors for a final passthrough instead of page-by-page edits because you will have learned what makes for good writing and what needs to be fixed. Those second eyes will become a confirmation of what you’ve already identified through applying Theory of Mind to your writing.

And, over time, you will develop a type of amnesia that makes you think you were this way all along, never struggling to resolve serious plot issues or asking why no one wants to read a melodramatic story.

Writers go through stages of comprehension, and it can be difficult to absorb advice from someone on a higher stage.

Writing a great story is extremely hard, no matter how long you’ve been doing this. I’m already sweating about writing the seventh book, Shadow and Sword, because I know there will be a lot of moving parts. But I know I can manage it with some time and deeper thought. I trust that it will come together as I want it to once I get down to the process.

That comes from years of training and practice. It’s not magical, just the result of doing the wrong thing over and over again until I do it right. But here’s the thing – I can look at the higher level because I have already gotten past the beginner and intermediate things after years of work.

Others aren’t quite there yet (though they certainly can get there). Any advice they have is likely not going to work for me, which is why I have to seek it from my highly experienced beta readers. So let’s look at what those stages are.

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Beginner writer

If you are starting on your first, second, or third big project, you are a beginner writer. You’re in the first half of your million words.

Yes, you really should write a million words before publishing. You can do it.

Anyway, a beginner writer already knows the basics of putting words together. They understand grammar and syntax; they’ve read hundreds of books, written school assignments, texted with friends.

But they haven’t fully absorbed the transition between academic/casual writing and fiction writing. The skills you apply through academic writing are not fully transferrable to fiction because different mechanics are at play. It’s not just about reading comprehension but about characterization, plot, pacing, themes, dialogue, and so on.

They will ask basic-level questions, not because they’re stupid and don’t know what they’re doing, but because they need a lot of hand-holding and validation. Which is fine. Annoying, but understandable.

While some beginner writers will jealously guard their plot and ideas because they’re afraid of someone stealing it, others will give you an entire rambling synopsis of their work. This isn’t necessarily asking for a critique of everything they shared, or even that it’s important for their question. Rather, they want to be told, “This is good and you should do it.”

I think that beginner writers who do this are subconsciously seeking a personal guru; they know they need a lot of help and they want it from someone specific who can give them a lot of attention. You’ll see them cherry-pick a certain commenter and glom onto them, asking dozens of questions until the commenter gets frustrated and stops responding.

In which case, please sign up for a formal writing course. I was fortunate to get a few of these during my Bachelor’s and it set the trajectory for my future.

I do not recommend casual writing groups for beginners. You’re going to get ripped apart. You need a professional who is trained in giving critique.

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Intermediate writer

These writers can see fiction writing is a huge field, which is why they often express frustration and overwhelm. Because they witness the big wide world of writing but don’t know how to apply all those moving parts, they shut down. You often see bleak and sad posts from these authors, especially ones who published too early and aren’t getting the feedback they want.

Intermediate writers have also started to explore their voice and vaguely understand what makes a story click with readers. Now, pacing, characterization, and audience become a huge concern. They know they can write technically proficient prose, but do not know if it actually resonates with anyone.

Their questions will be more focused. You’ll get more existential concerns about the value of writing, the importance of representation, the mechanics of their world (in fantasy and scifi) and so on.

Because they’re feeling more confident, intermediate writers often contribute a lot to forums and writing groups. However, they may unfortunately fall into the Dunning-Krueger trap: they aren’t aware of how much they don’t know yet and feel that they’re an expert without paying their dues.

They may also give a lot of really mean critiques to both beginners and experts because though they’ve done some work, they’re still a bit insecure about how well they’re doing.

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Experienced writer

Experienced writers intuitively understand characterization, pacing, plot, and audience; they do not need to even think about these things while they’re writing. It comes “naturally” – ie, after many years of hard work.

Now, they are concerned with systems: how these, and other aspects like themes and symbolism, all come together.

Our questions are extremely focused. Is there a specific part where the pacing became too slow or too fast? Does the foreshadowing seem subtle and not hamfisted? Are the themes clear but not too overt? Is the characterization consistent?

And my favorite question: is there anything else you would have liked to see that I could add for further enjoyment? Did you have any questions that weren’t answered?

The funny thing is that you do not usually see a lot of questions from experienced writers on subreddits or in writing groups. They, like me, will probably dip and out of forums to answer a specific, more high-level questions but ignore 90% of what is posted because we’ve seen that same question a billion times and don’t have anything else to say.

A lot of the questions I answer on Reddit have already been discussed on my blog. Unfortunately, I can’t link my blog there, so I have to give a Cliff Notes version of whatever I said. I also use Reddit to harvest blog post ideas, which is why I tend to be most active on there when I’m between projects and working on building my blog catalogue. You’ll notice months-long absences on Reddit; that’s when I was working.

Another thing is that you don’t see experienced writers posting samples or asking for critique on casual forums. You will likely only see their work in its most marketable form, after it is published.

This isn’t arrogance, and it doesn’t mean we’re not getting critique from anyone. Instead, we’re sending our work privately to trusted beta readers and editors with whom we have built a strong collaborative relationship. These beta reads and edits will be more about audience resonance and identifying any blind spots/plot holes.

I also know that most people cannot answer my questions in the way that I need, and I don’t need to crowdsource answers from hundreds of people. I already know my writing is good, so pat praise annoys me. I need to know what I’m doing wrong for this specific story, in this specific context.

As such, most of the people you see answering and asking dozens of questions are intermediate writers. They have grasped these concepts and are eager to share what they have learned, though they may not apply it perfectly every time.

New writers can be very defensive about their work and don’t want to hear that they’re wrong.

I’ve noticed something interesting over my years on this planet. The people who are the least confident about their skills are also the ones who are most aggressively defending their work. This is why you see newbies at any sport or craft who get really upset when you point out issues.

New writers are fighting for their lives to prove that they are a writer. Any threat to that status – such as implying their work could use a few tweaks – gets shut down because to accept it might suggest they aren’t a writer at all.

Which is part of the reason that I never, ever, ever share examples of new writers’ work to illustrate anything. I make up my own samples. Not only does this avoid copyright violation, but it means you know this was intentionally designed to show a common issue, and that I’m not picking on anyone in particular.

And if I do show bad work, it’s either someone who is long dead or so well-established that they will never read this blog.

We don’t bully beginner writers, ever. I want every new writer to become an experienced writer (because I want more good books to read), and I can’t support that if my blog readers think I’m laughing behind their backs.

Someone can’t absorb advice they’re not ready to hear.

This is true in every facet of life, and I have been victim to it many times.

Before coming out as a lesbian, I was in this weird situationship with a guy. Deep down, below my heteronormativity, I wasn’t interested in him. I wanted to “prove” that I liked men, so I chased him to insanity and would not let him go no matter how many “not interested” signs he gave off. I rationalized why he wouldn’t talk to me for weeks, then come back and chat with me for several days straight.

Everyone around me said, “Cameron. Come on. He’s not interested. He’s showing you that over and over again. Let it go. Find someone else.”

I couldn’t listen. None of that very prudent advice landed for me. The thing only ended when he ghosted me and blocked me everywhere (good for him).

After years of therapy, a similar situation came up, but in a gentler way. A girl seemed really interested in me; we had some good times together. But then she would vanish for weeks before coming back with abundant apologies about “I’m so busy, so sorry, I miss you, can we see each other again?”

This time, I went “nope.” I recognized that her words didn’t match her actions; she was saying she cared but showing the opposite. I had built my self-esteem and recognized that I should not be an option in a relationship, but a priority.

The advice I got before was directly applied to this disparate situation and helped me avoid repeating the cycle.

Writers do this too. You can tell someone that what they’re doing isn’t working, or offer more high-level advice, and they can’t apply it yet. They may listen and nod, but they can’t grasp why it’s important or detach their ego from their work.

You might wonder why I often repeat the same themes in my blog (and maybe you’re annoyed by it). I’m not lazy; it’s targeted repetition. I know some of my readers may be at the cusp of a breakthrough, and hearing the same thing said in different ways helps them absorb that lesson so they can accept it. The more you hear a piece of advice in different moods, settings, and contexts, the more likely you are to recognize its value.

I have seen this firsthand in my relationship woes, and now I can employ that for your benefit. Thank god my abysmal love life is good for something.

Beginners often put themselves in a “too many cooks” situation.

I actually do not think that writing subreddits and other casual forums are a good thing for beginner writers who need a personal guide. The reason for this is simple: you get too many responses.

If you have a question about “should I do this plot twist?” you’ll amass 200 billion answers from intermediate writers. But there are a few problems with that.

These writers don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Asking a question on a subreddit naturally strips out a lot of the context. The commenters have no idea how the rest of the story goes or what your overall intention is.

Many writers are not good at giving feedback. Writing and critiquing are very different skills. Plenty of writers can do both, but others assume that because they are a good writer, they are also a good critic, which isn’t always true. You have to learn how to give good feedback.

Others will twist your story to their personal preferences. This is a hallmark of a rookie beta reader. They’re not thinking about what you’re trying to do, but what they want to see. They cannot envision an audience outside of themselves, so they attempt to impose their own wants and needs onto your work.

Some will try to tear your down. Unfortunately, writing communities are filled with toxic, petty people who don’t want to see others succeed. So they may intentionally lead you astray or say everything you do is stupid.

When you get too many responses, you start developing analysis paralysis: you have no idea which suggestion is the ideal one. Sure, maybe you can collect a quorum of multiple responses and see what the general consensus is, but is this actually going to help you? Maybe, maybe not.

I am, of course, not at all saying you shouldn’t get any feedback or guidance. You need that support to improve. But you should be highly intentional about whose advice you take and only rely on the most trusted sources.

Frankly, I think that before you take anyone’s writing advice, you should look at their actual work. A fellow newbie doesn’t know what they are doing, and it will show in their writing samples.

But there’s also the other side of it. Maybe that writer is really good, but they write in a completely different style than you do. Everyone who gives advice is coming at it from their own experience and what works for them. Their suggestions will naturally gravitate toward what they are good at and what they like, even if they do their best to be neutral.

I know that I am a good writer, but I also know that my books do not have universal appeal. For some, they’re too flowery and dense. For others, they’re too simplistic or weird. And that’s okay.

If you don’t like my writing, then you might also not find my advice helpful. I’m not offended by that; to each their own. But that means you need to find a writer whose voice you do like and see what suggestions they have.

Was this extremely long blog post worth anything? I don’t know. But I wanted to explore the concept, both for myself and for you. So there you have it.