I read a story in Atomic Habits by James Clear that changed how I think about writing.

A professor at the University of Florida named Jerry Uelsmann divided his photography class into two groups. Half the class would be graded on how many photographs they turned in. All this “quantity group” had to do to get a good grade was take and develop a lot of photographs. The other half would be graded only on the quality of their work. The “quality group” only had to turn in one photograph that semester, but to get an A, it had to be nearly perfect.

“At the end of the term, he was surprised to find that all the best photos were produced by the quantity group. During the semester, these students were busy taking photos, experimenting with composition and lighting, testing out various methods in the darkroom, and learning from their mistakes. In the process of creating hundreds of photos they honed their skills. Meanwhile, the quality group sat around speculating about perfection.”

After I read that, I just sat there feeling a little dazed by how true the story rang. I kept thinking of examples from my own life.

Like my kid who’s a reliable hitter on his baseball team because he spends so much time at home hitting baseballs.

Or how I used to be hopeless in the kitchen, but now after 19ish years of cooking nearly everyday, I frequently cook without a recipe.

But what if my son only watched baseball games? What if a coach described to Eli where to put his hands, how to keep his eye on the ball, and where to put his feet . . . but Eli never actually did it?

Or what if I watched a lot of Food Network, ate a lot of food prepared by others, and read recipe books, but didn’t actually make food for myself?

You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?

Because what if we listen to podcasts on writing, read books on writing, and take classes on writing, but fail to actually spend time writing? Then we become like those photography students in the quality group. We sit around debating about the best methods for putting a plot together or developing great characters, while never making it past chapter three in our manuscript because we can tell it’s not good enough. It’s not working. It’s not perfect enough to get that A.

And, to our credit, we’re absolutely right. No first draft immediately “works.” Learning how to carry on anyway is a vital skill we all have to learn. See my post last week on this topic.

In the worst case scenario, writers who spend gads of time learning about writing but not actually writing become grumpy when other writers get published despite their flawed plots and imperfectly created characters. The difference between these two groups is that instead of merely talking about writing, those writers actually wrote their books while the others didn’t. You will never get an unwritten book published. Contracted? Sure, if you have a big enough platform. But never published. Feel free to fact check me on this.

If you’ve been hanging around Go Teen Writers for any amount of time, you probably already know this, but I will say it anyway: I love learning about writing. I have an ever-growing collection of books about writing and creativity. I like taking writing classes WAY more than I like teaching them. I love podcasts and learning from writing friends and all those things. I am absolutely not saying “it’s a waste of time to learn more about writing.”

What I am saying is that you need both. Both the learning and the practice. if you really want to grow as a writer, you need to develop the mindset of the quantity group of photography students. You need to imagine that you are getting graded on the amount of finished work you turn in, not the perfection of any individual piece. Obviously, doing the best work we can at any given time is important. The quantity group of photographers produced the best work because they were learning from their mistakes as they went. When I read between the lines of the story James Clear tells, it’s obvious to me that the quantity group was still trying to take good photographs, they just weren’t hung up on taking The Perfect Photograph and that mindset liberated them.

We need that mindset too. Don’t try to write The Perfect Sentence, just the best sentence you can in this moment. Don’t try to write The Best Book Ever. Strive to write a book that’s better than the last one you wrote.

The best thing that I can do for my career as a writer is write my book, make it as good as I can, turn it into my agent for her to shop to publishers, and then do it again. Write another book. Make it as good as I can. Turn it in. Write another.

All the while, I’m still learning. I’m listening to feedback from my agent, from editors, and from critique partners. I’m re-reading favorite craft books, listening to podcasts, and taking classes. But none of that actually accomplishes anything if I don’t get words on the page, The key to growing as a writer is spending time writing.

How much time are you spending writing vs. talking about writing/learning about writing? How do you feel about your balance?

Stephanie Morrill writes books about girls who are on an adventure to discover their unique place in the world. She is the author of several contemporary young adult series, as well as two historical young adult novels, The Lost Girl of Astor Street and Within These Lines. Within These Lines was a Junior Library Guild Gold Standard selection, as well as a YALSA 2020 Best Fiction for Young Adults pick. Since 2010, Stephanie has been encouraging the next generation of writers at her website, GoTeenWriters.com, which has been on the Writer’s Digest Best Websites for Writers list since 2017. She lives in the Kansas City area, where she loves plotting big and small adventures to enjoy with her husband and three children. You can connect with Stephanie and learn more about her books at StephanieMorrill.com, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.