Some books about writing teach you how to structure a novel, develop characters, or craft the perfect opening sentence. Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg takes a different approach. It focuses first on developing the practice of writing itself.
Originally published in 1986, the book has been recommended to writers for decades. I read the 30th-anniversary edition, published in 2016, and quickly understood why it is praised for writers who want to get started—or get unstuck. With short chapters, writing exercises, and plenty of practical advice, it often feels like a writing workshop in book form.
Not every part of the book connected with me. Goldberg is a poet, so some of her discussions on poetry didn’t help me with the writing I do. She is also a practicing Buddhist, and the book includes references to Zen practice, her Zen master, and the wisdom she learned from him. Those portions didn’t resonate with me as much as her practical instruction about the craft and discipline of writing.
But I still made many notes with ideas I wanted to remember. Here are some of the writing lessons from Writing Down the Bones that I’m taking with me.
Get the Words on the Page First
One of Goldberg’s foundational ideas appears immediately in a chapter called “First Thoughts.” Her instructions for writing practice include keeping your hand moving, not stopping to reread what you’ve written, not crossing anything out, and not worrying about spelling, punctuation, or grammar.
In other words: stop editing while you’re trying to write.
For me, that is much easier said than done! It’s tempting to stop after a sentence and immediately improve it—change a word, fix a comma, reread the paragraph—and before long, twenty minutes have passed polishing four sentences instead of discovering what should have been said that could not be lost.
Goldberg’s approach separates creating from editing. The first job is simply to get the thoughts onto the page. There will be time to clean them up later.
She returns to this idea in the chapter, “Write Anyplace”:
“In the middle of the world, make one positive step. In the center of chaos, make one definitive act. Just write.”
We don’t need perfect circumstances, the perfect notebook, or even the perfect idea. Sometimes we simply need to write.
Keep a Few Prompts Ready for When You’re Stuck
Of course, “just write” brings up the obvious question: What do you write when you don’t know what to write? Goldberg provides plenty of possibilities.
In “A List of Topics for Writing Practice,” she suggests prompts such as beginning with “I remember,” describing the streets of your city, or writing about a grandparent. The point is to begin putting words together and see where they lead.
One of my favorite suggestions comes later in the book. If you’re having trouble writing, Goldberg suggests writing about food.
It makes sense. Food is filled with sensory details and memories. This is an easy prompt for when my husband and I take one of our road trips around Kansas. If we stop at an interesting local restaurant, chances are I’m already taking a photo for Instagram. Sometimes a good meal gives us more than something to post; it gives us a story to tell.
Pay Attention to the Details
Specific details help a reader enter the story. In “Original Detail,” Goldberg writes:
“Life is so rich, if you can write down the details of the way things were and are, you hardly need anything else.”
It isn’t simply a tree. For me, it’s the crimson red maple in autumn, seen from the living room window. It isn’t just a car. It’s my old minivan where I would spend twenty minutes talking to Jesus on the way to the grocery store. The details are often what make an experience feel real to someone who wasn’t there.
Ask the Question—Then Answer It
Another practical technique comes from “Make Statements and Answer Questions.” Goldberg encourages writers to make clear, affirmative statements and suggests that when we write a question, we shouldn’t necessarily leave it hanging. Instead, we answer it immediately in the next line. That’s an interesting exercise, especially for personal writing.
— Why did that experience bother me so much? Don’t stop there. Write the answer.
— What was I really afraid of? Answer it.
— What did I learn from what happened? Keep writing.
The question can become a doorway into the deeper part of the story.
Go Further Than You Think You Need To
This may be one of the lessons that hit me the hardest. Goldberg encourages writers to keep going even when they think they’ve finished:
“Sometimes when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning.”
Maybe our first few paragraphs contain the easy answers. We explain what happened, where we were, and how we felt. Then we stop. But what happens if we keep writing for another five minutes?
Goldberg encourages writers not to shy away from uncomfortable emotions either. In “Use Loneliness,” she talks about allowing the ache of loneliness to propel us deeper into expression. And in “Going Home,” she explores how the places and people we come from influence our writing—even the patterns of our language.
Those are good reminders that our best material may be a layer or two beneath our first answer. Sometimes “I think I’m finished” might really mean, “I’m getting close to something I haven’t figured out how to say yet.”
Read What You Want to Write
Writers sometimes worry that reading other writers will cause us to copy their voices or lose our own. Goldberg argues the opposite. In “Writing Is a Communal Act,” she writes:
“Your ability to love another’s writing means those capabilities are awakened in you.”
Later, she gives an especially practical piece of advice: if you want to write in a particular form, read a lot of it.
Want to write personal essays? Read personal essays.
Want to write devotionals? Read good devotionals.
Want to write a novel? Read novels in your genre.
As we read, we begin noticing how writers handle beginnings, endings, pacing, dialogue, transitions, description, and structure. We aren’t reading so we can copy someone else’s voice. We’re learning how the form works.
Don’t Let Doubt Make the Decisions
Eventually, nearly every writer encounters doubt. Goldberg’s chapter title doesn’t mince words: “Doubt Is Torture.” Her advice is to approach our writing instead with what she calls “tenderness and determination,” along with patience and a sense of humor.
I like this combination. Tenderness allows us to write something imperfect without immediately deciding it’s terrible. Determination brings us back to the page tomorrow. We likely need both.
Let Your Writing Sit Before You Fix It
Near the end of the book, Goldberg turns to rereading and rewriting. She recommends allowing some time to pass before returning to what you’ve written. Distance can help us become more objective.
She also suggests periodically rereading entire notebooks of your free writing and marking sections that stand out. Something we scribbled during a writing exercise months ago might contain the beginning of an essay, article, story, or poem.
In other words, don’t assume writing practice is wasted simply because you don’t immediately know what to do with it.
My favorite idea from this section is Goldberg’s description of revision as “envisioning again.” That changes the way I will think about rewriting.
Revision isn’t only correcting grammar, deleting unnecessary words, or rearranging paragraphs. Sometimes we need to look at the scene again. What did it look like? What was happening? What was I trying to say? Then we can add the details or clarity needed to bring the words on the page closer to the picture in our minds.
Becoming a Writer Is About More Than Finishing
One short passage near the end of my notes may sum up much of what I took away from Writing Down the Bones:
“What is important is not just what you do—‘I’m writing a book’—but how you do it, how you approach it and what you come to value.”
There is value in finishing the article, submitting the essay, publishing the blog post, or finally typing “The End” on a manuscript.
But there’s also value in becoming someone who notices.
Someone who reads.
Someone who records the details.
Someone willing to follow an idea a little further instead of stopping at the first answer.
And someone who keeps showing up to write even when doubt comes along.
Writing Down the Bones wasn’t a book where every chapter connected with me, but it didn’t need to. I can learn from another writer’s experience without connecting with every aspect of her worldview or writing style.
What I’m taking from Goldberg is something much simpler: Don’t overthink every first sentence. Pay attention to the details around you. Read the kind of writing you hope to create. Go a little deeper than the easy answer. Give your words time before deciding whether they’re any good.
And most of all? Just write.
Interested in reading this book? You can find it here on Amazon.
Disclosure: The featured image was created by AI to illustrate the book and this post.
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