This tutorial is about writing more clearly for creative writing and fiction and when editing writing it's a good idea to ask yourself have I already presented this information because what happens a lot of times is two you know one or more paragraphs before it's common to have already written the information you're presenting in a different form as you're trying to get your story on the paper it comes out it usually comes out jumbled so when you're editing run through and one of the best ways to greatly clarify your prose is to ask yourself have I already presented this information and usually what happens is you'll remember that a paragraph or so ahead of time you already said something kind of similar and you can take a look at those two sentences and realize that if you move one sentence over to where the other one is at you can change them around a little bit maybe turn them both into one sentence or maybe turn them you know rewrite them so that they both work well together and then you can go to the place where you extracted that sentence and rearrange it and what you'll end up with are prose that run more smoothly and have greater impact and then you'll have as you go back and reread the story you'll see that the ideas are presented in an order that makes more sense and a lot of the times in you know in the heights of inspiration you're not thinking about ordering your ideas and presenting them in an orderly fashion and as you want to go back and edit them it can take some time to then go and rearrange to present your ideas in an orderly fashion but if you just ask yourself have I already presented this information that will usually start the process of of reordering rearranging and rewriting the information that will more naturally flow and make more sense and be easier for your audience to to consume.

How a Premise Can Help Your Writing.

A premise is ideally a single statement—a moral, value, or declaration the story illustrates. Stories that endure, that captivate and haunt us, all share one thing in common: a clear premise.

So, what is a premise? It arises from a strong feeling the author holds. In *Romeo and Juliet*, Shakespeare’s underlying conviction is that love conquers all—even death. He didn’t sit down intending to preach this lesson; he believed it so deeply that the story flowed from his conviction. He wasn’t trying to convince us of his belief—he was compelled to express it.

Because the author already embraces the premise wholeheartedly, the resulting story naturally persuades readers, whether or not the writer cares if they’re “won over.” The premise isn’t the point; it simply galvanizes the emotive strength of the story.

Don’t Start with the Premise.

If you’re beginning a story, forget about your premise—at least for the first draft. Writing to a preconceived statement often makes the writing ring false. Instead, let the narrative emerge organically. Once you have a complete draft, identify the underlying premise and use it to sharpen your focus, decide what to remove, and give your story stronger direction.

A Great Story Comes from Passion, Not Premise. For the writer, premise comes after passion. You may have heard, write what you know. A similar statement will help you write with passion: write about what triggers an emotional responce in you. Write about what frightens you, makes you excited, makes you want to learn more...

A compelling story and a strong premise both stem from the author’s passion. Shakespeare cared deeply about love’s power, and that passion generated *Romeo and Juliet* and its premise. He may have later used the premise to refine the play, but it wasn't the starting point.

In short, when you begin writing, don’t worry about crafting a premise. Write freely and let your convictions reveal themselves in subsequent drafts. Only then should you distill and sharpen your premise to guide the story’s final shape.

Try this writing tip: write slowly on purpose. I know it sounds counter intuitive, but writing can be one of the most mentally demanding things we do. When I’m in the zone and typing at top speed, my brain feels like it’s sprinting a marathon, desperately craving energy to keep all those neurons firing. Sure, there are moments when words flow out effortlessly, but relying on that state sets you up for frustration when it doesn’t happen.

Instead, develop the habit of deliberately slowing down. If you feel resistance—if the words suddenly dry up or you tense with urgency—pause. Step away from the keyboard. Think through the next tiny step, then tackle just that one small piece. You might start glacially, pick up to a medium pace, or even gush again—but when you sense friction, dial back to that deliberate crawl. Writing slowly on purpose gives you room to breathe and sidesteps the blockers that make writing feel like a grind.

Imagine approaching writing the way you’d work on a jigsaw puzzle. You’re sipping coffee, calmly scanning the pieces, trying one, then another, with no rush. That’s the pace to aim for. Even if you can sprint through a draft, force yourself—at least once a day—to move at puzzle speed. It’s a tool in your writing toolbox: the more you practice, the more instinctive it becomes.

Over time, writing slowly not only eases the pressure but also makes the process more enjoyable. You’ll still hit those exhilarating flow states, but you’ll experience far less stress, fatigue, and resistance. When writing feels fun and relaxed, that joy seeps into your words, making your work more engaging to readers. The best writers know when to “dance lightly” and when to rocket ahead—both modes have their place.

So next time you sit down to write, remember: optimizing for ease and enjoyment is just as important as speed. Practice slow writing regularly. You’ll find it not only preserves your energy but transforms writing into something you look forward to—and that’s one of the greatest creative achievements you can unlock.