Some Bonus Writing Lessons I Have Imported From 2020 Into 2021

Peeling the layers off an educative year

Who likes end-of-year reviews? Not me, not too many people either. And I understand why that is. Who wants to relive some of those toe-curling moments, right?

But because success leaves clues and history repeats itself, you should embrace digging up the remains of the past years.

Who knows, what worked last year may evolve into a priceless gem that soars in value on the writing stock exchange every day. Or, you know, it may pale into a useless mess. The fact no one knows it all is reason enough to dredge the remains of your journey the past year.

During my self-imposed writing break near the end of 2020, I assessed my writing experience for the year, my emotions switching like a traffic light. But I managed to sift through the numerous lessons and smuggle these four into 2021.

Some people live on negativity-flavoured sore grapes: You had best ignore them

The first real negative comment I saw under my post got me vibrating like a turbocharged engine doing a 1,000 mile trip at 120 mph.

The 450-word response — one that mixed jealousy, hate, and negativity — under a 1,200-word article was like the flashing blue and red lights that accompany the wailing siren of a police car. You can’t ignore that stuff.

I drafted three responses in Word, confident one of them would land the perfect counter punch. But in the end, the cold in my feet blanketed my warm body.

I only responded that the reader should have read the article to the end before passing judgment. To which they countered with a shorter but sourer retort.

Before long, we had started a mini Twitter thread in the comments section. Curious readers chimed in and supported my cause. Was it time best spent? Probably not. But I didn’t know any better then.

This year, I plan to take some of those comments people spray under my articles with a pinch of salt. I’ve resolved to allow the haters to turn every shade of jealous green.

I won’t bother to taste a drop of the juice from their sour grapes. Nor will I inject me with their poison. I may be doing something right to attract haters, I’ve told myself.

Lesson #1: Ignore the negativity-flavoured sour grapes people will hurl at your head.

Don’t even try to hack the luck code

I always wondered why and how some writers seemed to get lucky and not me. So one Sunday afternoon, I set out to crack the luck code.

I dug into the works of several great writers. I made notes on their strategies, the kind of content they put out, their styles, and even the number of emotion-evoking keywords they used.

I ended up with a confusing mess of useless keywords, suggestions, and ideas. Defeated, I retraced my steps to where I had left off and picked up my abandoned slack. Off I went, treading the hard work route once again.

It meant I had to take a few writing courses to learn more about writing than “eliminate adverbs” and avoid the “passive voice”.

And I’m glad my efforts have started paying dividends. I’m getting luckier with increased views and engagements, and I didn’t have to crack any code. Maybe I gave up on the code-cracking too soon, but I’ll take my chances of creating my own luck any day.

Lesson #2: Find your routine, find your style, find your thing, and ask how you can make it better. That’s more rewarding than chasing hacks.

No two voices are the same

What groundbreaking tip have you come up with that someone else hasn’t ever shared?

When I read articles online, I often see a few episodes of at least two people saying the same thing but in different words. I guess that’s the way it goes online.

It’s okay to say what others have already said, so long as you’re adding an extra line of information. Even some scientific theories are nothing more than improvements to older theories. Think of it all as a software update.

So I don’t mind repeating some well-known advice. I know I write with a different motive, I write with a different style, I write for a different audience. If you’ve already heard what I’m saying, I’m happy for you.

But I don’t know what everyone knows — or doesn’t know — and I can’t assume something is common knowledge because three people have written about it in the last month.

Lesson #3: Write what’s on your mind even if someone wrote about it last week. So long as you didn’t steal anyone’s words and you didn’t lie, it’s fair game. Reject tags like unoriginal and unimaginative. Just go about your business and ignore the chirps from the angry birds.

The real superstars are those who perform even when no one is cheering

Do you know the secret of an excellent presentation? Hours of rehearsing in front of a mirror, lots of practising in front of a small crowd.

That’s where you get to iron out the creases and patch the leakages. Then one day, you deliver an impassioned speech that moves half of your audience to tears and draws raucous cheers from the other half. You’re now the star.

Similarly, all the writers who keep producing articles only a few friends read are the real stars. In front of a small crowd, they’re perfecting their craft, ploughing on when it seems no one cares.

How easy is it to find the motivation to keep going when no one reads your work? Very easy, eh?

I know it’s only a matter of time before the big day arrives. It won’t be long before a big audience welcomes me with cheers. So long as I keep improving, I may not need another 10,000 articles to get it right.

I’ve learned to admire the writer who can dig deep for the oil to keep them running when the rewards are not coming. She has the drive of a champion, the heart of a conqueror, the bravery of a warrior.

Lesson #4: The real stars are those focused on the work even when the results are not forthcoming.

Conclusion

Like a day old chick, I broke out of my writing shell in mid-2020 and tried to make some noise. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t loud enough to attract a big crowd; it mattered that I got cheeping. In those muffled sounds, here’s what I learned.

• Take the angry and jealous folks less seriously.
• Ignore others’ luck and work on yours.
• No two voices are the same.
• The real stars are those who don’t let the present situation discourage them.

These lessons have served as the chalk I needed to write on the clean slate of a new year. What writing lessons did you bring along from 2020?