The 8 Habits of Really Good Writers
A journey to Nantucket reveals the answer.
This past weekend I went to a writing retreat in Nantucket. Other than one of the organizers
who is an author pal, I didn’t know anyone. On the first night, we had a meet and greet with everyone attending the retreat, and as I chatted with the other participants I was surprised to discover that many of them had never written anything.Well, that’s not entirely true—they might have dabbled or written for marketing jobs or other lines of work—but most had arrived on the magical island of Nantucket hoping to become writers that very weekend. Several wanted to begin memoirs about painful subjects. Some weren’t sure what they wanted to write about at all—and they were using this weekend to figure it out.
I’ve been a writer for as long as I can remember. When I was seven, I began my first journal entry with: “Dear Diary.” In my tweens, I created pretend magazines modeled after my favorites glossies, Sassy and YM. God rest in peace. At some point in those years, I signed my journal entries with “Brooke Lea Foster, the world’s best kisser,” (cringe) copying Karen Kepplewhite is the World’s Best Kisser by Judy Blume; obviously, I’d never kissed anyone at that point. But my love of writing continued, and by the time I was in high school, I was editor of the Wildcat Pause. (I mean, how cute is that name?!) Then I spent twenty years as a journalist.
You might say that writing is all I’ve ever done.

At one of the retreat dinners, held at the handsome The Nantucket Hotel, I turned to one of the participants and asked what his plan was for the weekend. “I need a plan?” he said, laughing. I shrank. Maybe I was being too Type-A. But the truth was that I went to the retreat with the goal of writing 10,000 words or more. I was there to do my job, and I arrived focused and ready to get down as many words as I could. (That’s habit 1: Have a plan before you begin each day. ) The participant, an established professional in his own field, shared that he didn’t know where to begin when it came to writing. I said something perky on the lines of: “Well, it’s like Malcolm Gladwell says, you need your 10,000 hours before you really know how to do something.”
On the ferry ride home to the mainland three days later, I considered all these individuals who had decided, many of them at midlife, that they wanted to write. They spent their time at the retreat recounting intimate stories that included traumas like dealing with a loved one with mental illness or a longing to have a child, even though they didn’t have a life partner. Each participant felt compelled to tell their story, share what they learned and mostly, to figure out how these experiences had changed and evolved them. There’s so much courage in beginning and seeing that made me remember why I write: To tell stories that might change someone’s life, or at least make them smile on a really bad day. Habit 2: Know why you’re writing.
New writers often feel as though they cannot call themselves writers, but I kept reassuring those around me: You are a writer. You are a writer the moment you begin to put words down on a page. And yes, anyone can be a writer. You may have to work your tail off and get to those 10,000 hours of practice before you get published, which may seem daunting. But if you stick with it, it will happen. Habit 3: Don’t be afraid to suck.
Many of the participants at the retreat were curious about my novels, how I got started, and why I was there if I have already published. I told them that I signed up because I am inspired when I’m around other writers. I love talking about voice and plot and how to develop characters. Plus, I needed a dedicated space to think about my latest book—and what better place than Nantucket and this incredible house called The Dips, where we were invited to work during the day? Habit 4: Commit to your writing—and this dream you have.
I found myself repeating the same advice to all of the new writers: Practice. Maybe start a Substack or work on an essay during your lunch break. If you want to write fiction, count daydreaming as writing—and most of all, dedicate time every single day to working on your idea. Write snippets. Those snippets may turn into a chapter. Those chapters into a book. Habit 5: Start small and expand.
I also said that you may need to accept that you may be really bad at writing at first, but if they stick with it and get critique partners, they will improve. Jane Austen wasn’t born the talent she was; she worked for it. Habit 6: Accept that it’s hard.
A published writer gets there only because they are committed to making time for their words. They push the business of life out of the way to share what they hold most dear. Writing is, in many ways, a call to prayer, and I’ve found that the older I get, the more I realize how I wouldn’t be me without my desire to tell stories. Habit 7: Treat your writing like a sacred space.
In the end, I wrote 10,900 words before I left the island. I met my goal, and my fellow writers cheered me on during the closing words circle.
Then something cosmic happened.
On the last day, a stranger came up to me in the hotel lobby, her dog dragging her over to me since I was making kissy faces at the pup’s fur face. The woman discovered I was a novelist at the retreat, and she asked what kind of books I write. I told her I write historical summer fiction, often centering around women’s relationships, heroines who are empowered over the course of the novel. “I write about women who find courage to be the women we all want to be,” I said.
The woman jotted down the names of my novels. Then she said, “Please don’t stop writing. We need these stories. These are stories that inspire us as women and help us remember who we are and why we do the things we do. They bring us closer to ourselves.” Habit 8: Shut up and listen to people.
I could have hugged this stranger. “I will,” I said, like it was the most important call I’d ever rise to. Maybe it was.
writing these down, along with the other advice i soaked up from you this weekend!
Love this! Thank you.