I have just landed in the war-ravaged Pacific Northwest, where I am giving a couple of talks tomorrow. No matter what the subject of any given talk is, everyone in the Q and A asks about writing--how to get started, stick with it, or finish something they started that they have now turned on, hate and have given up on.

Here’s what I always recommend:

First, stop NOT writing. Get your butt in a chair and make a deal with yourself to stay there for awhile. Bribes and threats are helpful--if you finish this one passage, we’ll get up and go for a walk, or have ½ a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Find some actual paper. It is this flat, white stuff with lines on it. The people always insist that they do everything better on their phones. I say, “That’s very nice. But when all else fails, follow instructions.” They grow bitter.

Now I want them to find pencils, preferably, or pens, and to make a long scribbly list of their earliest memories, if they are working on a memoir. Then they are to proceed chronologically from there. Early classroom, blacktop and holidays are great prompts

I mention nicely that not a single person in their family will be glad to hear they are writing a memoir

If they want to write novels, screenplays, etc, they should scribble down on the aforementioned “paper” any ideas they have about the location, themes, main characters. Then it’s best to make a list the exact people, of any situations, moments, conflicts, necessary patches of dialogue, landmarks and so forth.

Whatever they are writing, they can pick one item/memory/moment/person and write about that really badly. Bird by bird; shitty first drafts. If there is time in that day’s allotted work space, they should go back and make it a little better. Take out any long descriptions or you will lose us. Add some sensory details--what does the old burlap sack smell like--oats, mud, old age--and how does it feel between your fingers? What does the school bell sound like in your memory?

I’ve written 20 books over 50 years and I still do this every day--stop not writing, scribble down ideas and moments, pick one and write it really badly. Then clean it up a little, and see if you can find stronger verbs

That’s how I got this written.

Here’s the very last page of Bird by Bird, which answers one important question:

“So why does our writing matter, again?” they ask.

Because of the spirit, I say. Because of the heart. Writing and reading decrease our sense of isolation. They deepen and widen and expand our sense of life: they feed the soul. When writers make us shake our heads with the exactness of their prose and their truths, and even make us laugh about ourselves or life, our buoyancy is restored. We are given a shot at dancing with, or at least clapping along with, the absurdity of life, instead of being squashed by it over and over again. It’s like singing on a boat during a terrible storm at sea. You can’t stop the raging storm, but singing can change the hearts and spirits of the people who are together on that ship.”