How to Learn Anything (By Writing Fiction First)

In a previous post, I mentioned learning to write from some old salts on the internet. Now, I want to pass their combined wisdom—plus a few of my own hard-earned lessons—to you.

Even if you're not a writer, these tips are great for mastering any skill.

Writing isn't talent; it's a trainable skill. Its lessons go far beyond putting words on a page. And like any skill, you need a training plan.

Lucky for you, I've got ten novels, hundreds of short stories, and years of writerly suffering under my belt. If I were starting fresh today, here's how I'd approach it—plus how these same principles apply to work, business, and life.

Flash Fiction First

When learning something new, start small. Make mistakes. Iterate. Once you have control, you can go bigger.

That's why the first assignment I give aspiring writers is simple:

Write a 1,000-word story using Freytag's Triangle—intro, rising action, climax, falling action.

Think 1,000 words is a lot? For reference, this post is about that length. That word budget disappears fast.

So why flash fiction?

• It forces you to experiment. You can try different genres, voices, and ideas without a huge time investment.
• It teaches the fundamentals. Pacing, dialogue, and emotional impact get immediate focus.
• If it doesn't work, scrap it. No sunk-cost fallacy—just move on to the next idea. (Spoiler, your first few stories will not work, and you should expect that going in.)
• You learn to be brief. A single word in the right place can stick with someone better than an endless drone of infodumping. (See: William Faulkner's Vardaman declaring, in a single-chapter sentence, "My mother is a fish.")

How this applies to everything else:

• New skills: Start with a small project before committing to a long one.
• Coding: Write a tiny script before diving into full-stack development.
• Business: Test ideas in low-risk ways before major investments.

Small wins build confidence. Mastering the short form makes the long form possible.

"To Write A-Level Work, You Have to Write Tons of C-Level Work First"

Not everything you create will be great. That's fine. Finishing matters more than perfection.

Some ideas you just won't be ready for yet—either because you're still building skill or because the concept is too far outside your experience.

I've buried two novels I wrote in high school because they were so bad they were unsalvageable. But the time I spent on them? Essential.

How this applies everywhere else:

• Products: The first version will suck. Release it anyway and improve.
• Languages: Your first conversations will be embarrassing. Keep talking.
• Any skill: The only way to get better is to push through the bad.

Failure isn't the enemy. Staying stuck is.

Heinlein's Rules: "You Must Finish. You Must Publish."

Writing is lonely if you let it be. You need external pressure to finish.

Find your tribe:

• A Discord server
• A critique group
• One chaotic friend who yells at you to finish

Left to your own devices, you'll tinker forever. Don't.

Heinlein's Rules for Writers have been my north star as a writer for 25 years. They're blunt but effective: write, finish, publish, and keep publishing. Everything else is just noise.

How this applies everywhere else:

• Accountability matters. Whether it's a team, mentor, or audience, having people expect results pushes you forward.
• Ship your work. A perfect idea in your head is worth nothing. A finished product—flawed or not—has real value.
• Take feedback. It's how you grow. Even when it hurts.

Cringe is Your Enemy. Break It with Exposure.

We, as a society, critique the written word harshly.

This is partly because grammar rules started as "Sound Like a Rich Guy 101" (but I digress). But the net effect is chilling for folks trying to break into writing with their own unique perspectives. There's this false idea that your writing has to be "right," when in reality your writing is just a reflection of you. Human, flawed, imperfect, but all the more loveable for it.

So how to you break Cringe's hold on you? You spit in its face, that's what you do. Share your work. Get rejected from your dream publishing house. Try landing a spot in that periodical you see on the shelves of your bookstore.

People will scream and holler, tell you how bad a writer you are. Point is, everyone has an opinion. Most of them are wrong. But you still need to take the notes anyway.

How this applies everywhere else:

• Learning something new? Expect to suck in public. It's unavoidable.
• Launching a business? Your first website and pitch will be embarrassing. Do it anyway.
• Putting yourself out there? Some people will be jerks. Keep going.

The only way past the cringe is through it.

The Takeaway: Writing Teaches You How to Learn

Writing isn't just about putting words on a page. It teaches:

• Start small. Master fundamentals before going big.
• Quantity leads to quality. Failure is the path to success.
• Find your tribe. Community and accountability matter.
• Get over the cringe. Releasing work—even imperfect work—is how you improve.

So whether you're writing, coding, starting a business, or learning anything, the same rules apply.

And if you are writing?

Start with a 1,000-word story. See where it takes you. And if you're feeling particularly brave, send it along! I love helping new writers find their feet.