The best way to write is to talk

Talk to people you trust, pay attention to the responses, and then double down on what's surprising.

The best way to write is to talk. Once you spot an aha moment, write it down (or remember it). Then, flesh it out further when you’re in writer mode.

Author David Perell explains how he uses conversations to test out ideas:

Before I write my essays, I talk through them live in conversation. As I talk, I pay attention to how people react. Are they confused? Bored? Or am I saying something insightful, or surprising?

These aren’t formal interactions that require structure or preparation. Instead I’m talking casually with people in my life whose judgment I trust. These are people I feel comfortable sparring with over a meal, on the phone when I’m out on a walk, or even on my podcast. It can be a family member, an old friend, a co-worker, or someone I meet at a dinner party where we just click. I devote a lot of time to cultivating these connections because they’re people who know how to push my thinking. And they usually exhibit two qualities: a sense for what’s interesting and an ability to ask revealing questions.

As I’m talking through my ideas with them, I’m listening for a few things in how they respond. I have an acronym for this to help me keep track: It’s called CRIBS, which stands for confusing, repeated, interesting, boring, and surprising. When an idea I throw out is confusing, repeated (like something I or someone else has said before), or boring, I move away from it and focus on other lines of thinking. When people find something I say interesting or surprising, I know to take that idea more seriously and dig deeper to get to what’s insightful or surprising. This habit has become so ingrained that often I don’t even notice I’m doing it—I’ve trained myself to have a heightened sense of awareness in conversation to how people react.

The key is you’re hunting for surprise. “The more surprise is contained in a message, the more information it contains,” writes Perell. It’s true for comedy too. The best punchlines surprise the audience while somehow seeming obvious at the same time.

Also, talking engages a different part of your brain than writing. It’s tougher for your mind to keep up when talking. This can lead to you saying stupid stuff but it can also lead to genuine surprise, for both you and your listener. That tightrope walk between stupid and great ideas is where the magic happens. You’ve just got to cultivate the ability to discern between the two and bottle the lightning when it strikes.

Critic Matt Zoller Seitz offers similar “talk it out” advice:

Here is a technique I suggest to fellow writers who are blocked for whatever reason: just talk about the piece with a friend, record it, then play it back and write down the good stuff. This method also works with Gchat & similar programs. Go straight to document after.

Matt Zoller Seitz @mattzollerseitz

Here is a technique I suggest to fellow writers who are blocked for whatever reason: just talk about the piece with a friend, record it, then play it back and write down the good stuff. This method also works with Gchat & similar programs. Go straight to document after.

Method Man's Hand Gestures @Jamellpelle

I was telling him abt how me and my brother talk all the time & I'm my best when I'm talking not so much writing which at times feels forced thus some of the drastic procrastination...He clicks on tht & suggest I should record or write down the best talking points from our convos https://t.co/L9kAtGcYU8

Paul Graham, another sharp writer, ping pongs back and forth between writing and talking:

When I give a draft of an essay to friends, there are two things I want to know: which parts bore them, and which seem unconvincing. The boring bits can usually be fixed by cutting. But I don't try to fix the unconvincing bits by arguing more cleverly. I need to talk the matter over.

At the very least I must have explained something badly. In that case, in the course of the conversation I'll be forced to come up a with a clearer explanation, which I can just incorporate in the essay. More often than not I have to change what I was saying as well.

Graham also latches onto the idea of surprise as a gift – and why being cool won’t help you find it:

Surprises make us laugh, and surprises are what one wants to deliver.

I write down things that surprise me in notebooks. I never actually get around to reading them and using what I've written, but I do tend to reproduce the same thoughts later. So the main value of notebooks may be what writing things down leaves in your head.

People trying to be cool will find themselves at a disadvantage when collecting surprises. To be surprised is to be mistaken. And the essence of cool, as any fourteen year old could tell you, is nil admirari. When you're mistaken, don't dwell on it; just act like nothing's wrong and maybe no one will notice.