There is no shortage of writing advice on the internet.
Write every day.
Outline everything before you begin.
Never use adverbs.
Start with action.
Show, don’t tell.
Write in chronological order.
Finish everything you start.
Kill your darlings.
Avoid clichés.
Write what you know.
Some of this advice can be incredibly useful. It can help you solve problems, develop stronger habits, understand story structure, and become more intentional about your craft.
But there is a difference between useful advice and universal law.
Fiction is an art form, and fiction writers work in wildly different ways. What helps one writer produce their best work might make another writer miserable, unproductive, or creatively stuck.
So, let’s stir the pot a little.
Here are 15 pieces of common writing advice fiction writers don’t necessarily have to follow.
Not because the advice is always wrong.
Because sometimes, your story, your process, and your brain simply need something different.
1. “You Have to Write Every Day”
This is probably one of the most repeated pieces of writing advice you’ll encounter.
Write every day.
Build the habit.
Never break the streak.
And while regular writing can absolutely help you make progress, daily writing isn’t a requirement for being a writer.
Some writers thrive on daily routines. Others write intensely for several days and then need time away from the manuscript.
Some write during their lunch break.
Some write only on weekends.
Some spend weeks researching or thinking about a story before putting a single sentence on the page.
And some writers need substantial breaks between projects.
The important question isn’t:
“Did I write today?”
It’s:
“Am I making progress in a way that works for me?”
Consistency matters, but consistency doesn’t have to mean seven days a week.
Your writing schedule is a tool—not a moral obligation.
2. “You Must Outline Everything Before You Start”
Outlining can be incredibly helpful.
It can reveal plot holes, clarify character arcs, organize complicated timelines, and prevent you from wandering into the literary wilderness with no idea where you’re going.
But some writers don’t discover their stories through outlining.
They discover them through writing.
These writers are sometimes called pantsers because they write “by the seat of their pants,” allowing characters and situations to develop organically.
There is also a middle ground.
You might know the ending but not the middle.
You might have a chapter-by-chapter outline that changes dramatically once you start drafting.
Or you might have nothing more than:
Character wants X.
Character can’t have X.
Everything gets worse.
And honestly?
That can be enough to begin.
If outlining makes you excited to write, outline.
If outlining makes you feel like you’ve already done all the fun parts before drafting even begins, try discovering the story as you go.
3. “Never Use Adverbs”
Few writing rules have generated as much anxiety as the war against adverbs.
And yes, excessive adverb use can sometimes weaken prose.
Instead of:
“I don’t know,” she said angrily.
You might write:
“I don’t know.” She slammed the book shut.
The second version gives the reader something concrete to experience.
But that doesn’t mean every adverb needs to be hunted down and eliminated.
Sometimes an adverb is the clearest, most natural choice.
Sometimes:
“Come here,” he said quietly.
is perfectly fine.
The problem isn’t that adverbs exist.
The problem is using them as a substitute for stronger writing when stronger writing is actually needed.
Don’t delete an adverb simply because someone on the internet told you they’re forbidden.
Ask whether the sentence works.
If it does, move on.
4. “Your Story Has to Start With Action”
Opening with someone waking up, making breakfast, or staring out a window might not be the most exciting beginning in every story.
But that doesn’t mean every novel needs to begin with a car chase, murder, explosion, kidnapping, or dramatic confrontation.
A quiet opening can work beautifully when it creates curiosity.
Consider the difference between:
“Someone broke into the house.”
and:
“For three weeks, Mara had been pretending the second set of footprints in the garden wasn’t there.”
Nothing is exploding.
Nobody is running.
But there is a question.
Whose footprints?
And why is Mara pretending not to notice them?
The real goal isn’t necessarily action.
It’s interest.
Your opening should give readers a reason to keep reading.
Sometimes that reason is action.
Sometimes it’s mystery, emotion, atmosphere, voice, character, or an intriguing question.
5. “Write Everything in Chronological Order”
Beginning → middle → ending.
Simple, right?
Not always.
Stories can become much more interesting when they play with chronology.
You can open with a character discovering the consequences of something and then reveal how they got there.
You can use flashbacks.
You can alternate timelines.
You can tell two stories that eventually collide.
You can begin near the end and work backward.
You can deliberately withhold information from the reader.
Chronological storytelling is often easier to follow, but easy to follow isn’t the same thing as inherently better.
If your story benefits from a nonlinear structure, experiment with it.
Just remember that confusing the reader and intriguing the reader aren’t necessarily the same thing.
The reader should eventually understand why the structure works.
6. “You Have to Finish Every Story You Start”
This one sounds productive.
And sometimes it is.
Finishing stories teaches you things that endless beginnings can’t.
But not every unfinished project is a failure.
Sometimes you discover halfway through a novel that the premise doesn’t work.
Sometimes the characters have stopped feeling alive.
Sometimes you realize the story you actually want to write is completely different from the one you started.
Sometimes you’ve learned everything that particular project had to teach you.
And sometimes…
You simply don’t want to write it anymore.
That’s allowed.
You don’t have to spend six months dragging a dead story across the finish line just because you once promised yourself you would.
Of course, abandoning every difficult project the moment writing becomes challenging can become its own problem.
The trick is learning the difference between:
“This story is difficult.”
and
“This story is no longer the story I want to tell.”
7. “Show, Don’t Tell”
This is excellent advice.
Until it isn’t.
Sometimes showing is powerful:
His hands shook as he reached for the letter.
Other times, telling is cleaner:
He was terrified of opening it.
Not every emotional beat needs a three-paragraph demonstration.
Not every piece of information needs to be dramatized.
Imagine a character has a long commute to work.
Do you really need to show them brushing their teeth, putting on shoes, walking to the bus stop, waiting for the bus, getting on the bus, finding a seat, watching three stops pass, and finally arriving?
Probably not.
Tell what doesn’t need to be experienced. Show what does.
Good storytelling uses both.
8. “Every Scene Needs to Move the Plot Forward”
Stories aren’t machines where every scene must perform a measurable mechanical function.
Some scenes exist to deepen relationships.
Some establish atmosphere.
Some reveal personality.
Some give readers a moment to breathe.
Some exist because watching two characters talk for five pages is simply delightful.
A quiet dinner between two characters might not advance the external plot at all.
But perhaps the reader discovers that one character always steals the other person’s fries.
Perhaps they finally discuss something they’ve been avoiding.
Perhaps their relationship changes subtly.
Perhaps the scene simply makes us care about them.
That’s movement, too.
Not all movement is plot movement.
Sometimes the story needs to move emotionally.
9. “Never Repeat Information”
Obviously, you don’t want to insult your reader’s intelligence by explaining the same thing five times.
But strategic repetition can be useful.
A recurring phrase can become emotionally significant.
A character might repeatedly make the same mistake.
An image can appear throughout a novel and gain new meaning each time.
A detail mentioned casually in Chapter Three can become devastating in Chapter Thirty.
Repetition isn’t automatically bad writing.
Meaningful repetition can create patterns, themes, foreshadowing, and emotional resonance.
The key is intention.
If you’re repeating something because the reader genuinely needs the reminder, that’s different from repeating it because you don’t trust them to remember.
10. “Never Write a Prologue”
Prologues have a terrible reputation in some writing circles.
They’re often criticized as unnecessary information dumps that delay the “real” beginning of the story.
And yes, a bad prologue can absolutely do that.
But a good prologue can be fantastic.
Fantasy novels might use them to establish ancient history.
Mysteries might use them to introduce a crime.
Thrillers might show an event whose significance won’t become clear until much later.
Romance novels can occasionally use them to establish a pivotal event from the characters’ past.
The question isn’t:
“Is this a prologue?”
The question is:
“Does this material earn its place before Chapter One?”
If yes, keep it.
11. “You Should Always Write What You Know”
This advice is frequently misunderstood.
Writing what you know doesn’t necessarily mean writing autobiographical fiction.
It can mean using your emotional experiences to create believable characters.
But you can absolutely write about things you’ve never personally experienced.
That’s what research is for.
Writers create:
- detectives who have never been detectives
- astronauts who have never been astronauts
- dragons who have never existed
- historical characters who lived centuries before the author was born
- billionaires who have never owned a billion dollars
- vampires who have never been vampires
The important part is doing the necessary research and treating unfamiliar experiences thoughtfully.
You don’t need to have personally lived something to imagine it.
You do need to respect the difference between imagination and firsthand experience.
12. “Your First Draft Should Be Terrible”
This advice is usually intended to free writers from perfectionism.
And that’s useful.
But there’s a strange implication hidden inside it:
That you’re somehow supposed to deliberately write badly.
You don’t.
Your first draft can be messy.
It can have plot holes.
It can contain terrible dialogue.
It can have placeholders like:
[INSERT COOL DESCRIPTION HERE]
But if you’re capable of writing a beautiful sentence during your first draft, write the beautiful sentence.
You don’t need to sabotage your own prose in the name of drafting quickly.
The real lesson is:
Don’t demand perfection from a draft that is designed to be revised.
13. “Never Edit While You Draft”
For some writers, stopping every few paragraphs to edit is a nightmare.
They spend three hours polishing Chapter One and never reach Chapter Two.
For others, writing forward while knowing there is a glaring problem behind them is even worse.
They can’t continue until they’ve fixed it.
Both approaches can work.
You might prefer drafting everything first.
You might revise as you go.
You might write three chapters, revise them, then continue.
You might finish the manuscript and rewrite it almost completely.
There’s no universal rule governing when you’re allowed to edit.
Just watch for one major trap:
Editing can become procrastination disguised as productivity.
If you’ve rewritten the same paragraph seventeen times instead of finishing the chapter, you may not actually be editing.
You may be avoiding moving forward.
14. “You Need to Know Your Characters’ Entire Backstories”
Character questionnaires can be incredibly fun.
What’s their favorite food?
What was their childhood like?
What’s their greatest fear?
What’s their favorite song?
What did they want to be when they were six?
What embarrassing thing happened at their thirteenth birthday party?
You can spend hours creating these details.
But here’s the thing:
You don’t necessarily need to know everything about your character.
Some details will never appear in the story.
And sometimes characters become more interesting when you discover them organically.
You might begin writing a character with one idea of who they are and realize fifty pages later:
Oh.
You’re actually like this.
Let yourself discover things.
Characters don’t have to arrive fully assembled.
15. “You Have to Follow the Rules to Be a Real Writer”
This might be the most important one.
There is always another rule.
Don’t use passive voice.
Never start with dialogue.
Never start with weather.
Avoid clichés.
Never use said.
Always use said.
Write in the morning.
Write at night.
Outline.
Don’t outline.
Write longhand.
Write digitally.
Write every day.
Write fast.
Write slowly.
Write 1,000 words.
Write 5,000 words.
Finish everything.
Never look back.
Revise constantly.
Read constantly.
Read less.
The list never ends.
And if you listen to all of it simultaneously, you’ll probably become so anxious about writing correctly that you forget to actually write.
Writing advice is useful when it helps you understand your craft.
It becomes harmful when you start treating it like law.
So, What Advice Should You Actually Follow?
Here’s the uncomfortable answer:
The advice that solves the problem you’re currently having.
If your stories constantly lose direction, try outlining.
If outlining kills your excitement, try pantsing.
If your prose is overloaded with unnecessary adverbs, experiment with cutting them.
If removing every adverb makes your writing sound unnatural, put some back.
If your openings lack tension, experiment with starting closer to the conflict.
If your stories feel rushed, experiment with slower scenes.
If you never finish anything, practice finishing.
If you’re forcing yourself through projects you genuinely no longer care about, give yourself permission to move on.
The point isn’t to reject writing advice.
It’s to use it deliberately.
Think of writing advice as a toolbox.
You don’t use every tool on every project.
You reach for the tool that solves the problem in front of you.
And sometimes, the best thing you can do with a piece of advice is try it, discover that it doesn’t work for you, and put it back in the box.
The Best Writing Rule Might Be “It Depends”
One of the frustrating things about becoming a better writer is realizing that almost every writing question eventually has the same answer:
It depends.
Should you outline?
It depends.
Should you write every day?
It depends.
Should you use adverbs?
It depends.
Should you start with action?
It depends.
Should you finish every project?
It depends.
Should you show instead of tell?
It depends.
That’s not a failure of writing advice.
It’s a reflection of how complicated storytelling actually is.
Different genres have different expectations.
Different stories need different structures.
Different writers have different creative processes.
And even the same writer may need a completely different approach from one project to the next.
So the next time someone tells you that “real writers always…” or “good writers never…,” pause before accepting it as gospel.
Ask yourself:
Does this advice solve a problem I’m actually having?
If it does, use it.
If it doesn’t, experiment.
And if it actively makes your writing worse?
You have permission to ignore it.
Because the goal isn’t to become the writer who follows the most rules.
The goal is to become the writer who tells the story you actually want to tell.
What Writing Advice Do You Disagree With?
Now it’s your turn.
What’s one piece of writing advice you’ve tried that simply didn’t work for you?
Maybe you love adverbs.
Maybe you never outline.
Maybe you write entirely out of order.
Maybe you abandon unfinished projects without guilt.
Maybe you think “write every day” is fantastic advice—or completely unrealistic.
Tell us in the comments.
Because sometimes the most useful writing conversations begin with:
“Actually… I don’t agree.”
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