For most of a decade, I attended multiple writing conventions a year. I still attempt to attend as many events as I can, but what I get out of these conferences has changed over time. When I first started going, the panels were important to me, and I took diligent notes. Some of those notes are still floating around on this blog. Eventually, my note taking slowed down, and now I’m usually bored when I sit in on panels.

Did I stop learning? What’s the complicated answer?

The short answer, which is technically correct, is that we never stop learning to write. The language we are working in evolves over time. The way we express ourselves also changes.

But as my old friend used to say, that’s the Sunday school answer. That’s the obvious, boring answer that lacks nuance.

I believe there comes a point where the only way to continue to improve as a writer is to just sit down and do it. This is the point in our development where sitting and listening to people talk about writing isn’t going to move the needle much any more. It may inspire us or motivate us, and we might pick up some ideas to try, but none of that matters until we go and put pen to paper. Or hands on keyboards. You know what I mean.

Am I saying there that the value of workshops and other formats where writing is taught diminishes over time? I think so, yes. Everyone is different, so the point of diminishing returns will be different for various writers. Also, as we develop our skills as a writer, we will invariably hit multiple plateaus. Sometimes our egos will tell us we’ve plateaued, or mastered the subject when we haven’t.

My ego may have driven me to touch this subject in the first place, but I digress.

Let me see if I can find another way to describe what I’m talking about, and unwind my idea in a way that makes more sense. Let’s take me and a handful of astronauts that have never spent much time writing, put us all on a spaceship, and send us to Mars. During this trip, we are going to keep our spirits up by teaching each other different skills. I’m going to teach my shipmates how to write.

Initially, we will see fast progress. I’ll talk about using strong verbs. I will demonstrate how adjectives are delicious, but at the cost of pacing. We will talk about character voice, metaphors, plot structure, and several other topics that I have studied and practiced as a writer. For a little while, the astronauts will become better writers from my teaching along.

After a few million miles, one or more of them will have some breakthrough. The things they have been learning will lock into place. They will basically learn everything I have to teach them, and then the only way they’ll be able to improve is through practice. Sitting in a tiny vessel, hurtling through space with limited distractions, they’ll have plenty of time and opportunity to work on their craft. And they will improve, honing their voice and becoming better writers. They won’t progress as quickly as when they were first actively being taught. There won’t be anything left for me to say or do that will help them become better writers. They’ll just have to do the work on their own.

What happens when we get back to Earth and they find a better teach? From a place of both humility and reality, it will be a trivial matter for them to find a better writing teacher. Will they once again start to see rapid progress?

Probably. But the things they learned from me, they’ll have down. Perhaps Jennifer Brozek will teach them the lesson she taught me, which is that they can do more with less words just by trusting their readers a little bit more. They’ll see a huge improvement in their writing, and then hit another plateau.

Maybe Dan Wells will next teach them how to use Excel to manage their outlines, or give them a deeper understanding of story structures and how story structures can be used as a diagnostic tool when their stories aren’t quite working. Again, they’ll get another bump in improvement, and then plateau again.

With enough time and exposure to other experts, the frequency with which these astronaut-turned-writers improve their craft will flatten, because there is only so many ideas that can be taught. Attend enough classes and panels and conventions, and you start to hear the same things, over and over.

That is the long-winded, winding answer to the initial question. Yes, on a long enough timeline, we basically stop learning to write from other people, and can only improve through practice and direct application. And experimentation.

In Summary…

We don’t need to worry about the question of whether or not we stop learning to write from other people. We should keep an open mind, listen to what others have to say on the subject, and celebrate the times we do learn something new. We should also not worry too much when we hit certain plateaus. If you think you’ve hit a plateau, that means you’re at a point where you need to practice what you’ve learned more.

This has been Brian’s Excuses. I’m out of excuses. Now I need to go write.