How I try to be a better writer

1. I believe in the magic of index cards. When I get stuck on a poem, essay or review, I will stop everything and revert to my trusty pack of unlined index cards. Just shuffling them for a few moments can give my brain the break it needs. Then I grab a pen and start writing things down on them, after which I spread them over the floor. Staring at these white rectangles helps me figure out a path through the piece I’m writing, sort of like Hansel’s white stones. The interesting part of this exercise is that I don’t always stay with the outline the index cards suggest. In fact, laying them out seems to reveal a new path that I hadn’t seen before, hidden in the spaces between the cards.
2. I try to accept that writing doesn’t get easier. I’ll admit, this one brings up all kinds of negative feelings for me—anger, resentment, sadness, a sense of futility. I’ve been writing my whole life. Shouldn’t it be at least a little easier by now? I especially face this when writing poetry book reviews. I struggle to keep things fresh, to avoid repeating myself, and to do the book justice. It takes more time, not less, to accomplish these things. As Ursula K. Le Guin put it, “Well, what did you expect? It is work; art is work.”
3. I go with the flow. Julian Barnes wrote, “The imagination doesn’t crop annually like a reliable fruit tree. The writer has to gather whatever’s there: sometimes too much, sometimes too little, sometimes nothing at all.” That means always staying alert to the possibilities that offer themselves to me, often when I’m not paying attention or perhaps occupied with some other activity. I’ve learned to keep little notebooks and pens in various parts of my house: kitchen table, in case I get an idea when reading the morning paper; coffee table, where I spend an hour reading “for fun” each evening; nightstand, with its precariously tilted stack of books. 
4. I read. Grace Paley advised, “Read a lot. Don’t be afraid to read or of being influenced by what you read.” In fact, embrace influences, as I wrote in this blog post. Here’s another tip from me: sometimes I just pick up my trusty Roget’s 21^st Century Thesaurus, which I’ve had since college, and thumb its brown, brittle pages. Who knows what treasures I might find? Today I opened it to “Class II: Words Relating to Space / Space in General” and found the first word, “space,” with these synonyms: extension, extent, expanse, span, stretch, scope, range…soon I felt a poem stirring in my brain.
5. I’m part of a critique group. Regularly meeting with a few other writers is a wonderful way of creating a community for yourself. Plenty of writers don’t do this, and for many years, I didn’t either, but the pandemic exacerbated the normal loneliness of the writer’s life. Now I look forward to seeing my small group of fellow poets, reading their work, and listening to their feedback. It’s helped me feel a lot less isolated.
6. I write, rewrite, rewrite. Then I try to let it go. Good writing needs space and time. Always give yourself a break from what you’re writing to let it breathe. I simply won’t see the flaws in my writing until I’ve had at least one day away from it. Then I go back, fix the piece to my best ability, and move on. As Voltaire once said, “perfect is the enemy of good.” 
7. I try to remember that my voice is important. Just because someone else wrote about an experience I’ve had doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t also write about it. Harold Bloom wrote about the paralyzing condition he called “the anxiety of influence,” wherein writers, especially poets, allowed themselves to be intimidated by the canon of poets to the point that they simply couldn’t write. Don’t let that happen to you! All those poets were once young and insecure (or older and insecure). My voice matters. Yours does too.
8. I try to take care of myself. In Carolyn See’s book, Making a Literary Life, she writes about what motivates her to write: “For every book I’ve finished I’ve bought myself a gift. I believe in having a view. I’ve lived in the mountains, and now I live by the beach.” Celebrate any wins. Reward yourself for finishing things. As a writer, you won’t get promotions and office birthday parties. You’ll have to create rituals for yourself.
9. I take writing classes. At least once per year, I sign up for a workshop on some aspect of writing. I call this investing in myself. The only way to stay fresh is to regularly submit yourself to the humbling experience of being a beginner. We all know that learning new things is the best way to keep our brains healthy and fit. So take a class and have fun!

If you have any suggestions, please add them in the comments. Thanks!