If I had to choose one living author to take writing advice from, it would be George Saunders: Booker Prize-winner, New York Times bestseller, English professor at Syracuse University. Thankfully, he put out a book in 2021 that distils all that experience

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If I had to choose one living author to take writing advice from, it would be George Saunders: Booker Prize-winner, New York Times bestseller, English professor at Syracuse University. Thankfully, he put out a book in 2021 that distils all that experience into actionable insight...

A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is a collection of seven short stories by Russian writers like Chekhov and Tolstoy, which Saunders has taught in his class for 20 years. Each one is followed by an essay full of wonderful analysis on storytelling – and the nature of reading itself.

A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is a collection of seven short stories by Russian writers like Chekhov and Tolstoy, which Saunders has taught in his class for 20 years. Each one is followed by an essay full of wonderful analysis on storytelling – and the nat

But before we dive into the takeaways, note that A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is not a how-to book. Saunders would hate that description. These are simply his observations – and this Memo merely contains my condensed highlights, which I will return to again and again…

But before we dive into the takeaways, note that A Swim in a Pond in the Rain is not a how-to book. Saunders would hate that description. These are simply his observations – and this Memo merely contains my condensed highlights, which I will return to aga

A story is not just a series of lively events. It’s not just about compelling the reader to continue and hoping the narrative rewards their time. Along the way, an alteration must take place in the reader’s mind. So, how does that happen? What turns text into a satisfying story?

A story is not just a series of lively events. It’s not just about compelling the reader to continue and hoping the narrative rewards their time. Along the way, an alteration must take place in the reader’s mind. So, how does that happen? What turns text 

Everything in a story should be there for a reason. The reader’s default assumption is that no detail has been included by chance or as decoration. “Every element should be a little poem, freighted with subtle meaning that is in connection with the story's purpose.” – George Saunders

Everything in a story should be there for a reason. The reader’s default assumption is that no detail has been included by chance or as decoration. “Every element should be a little poem, freighted with subtle meaning that is in connection with the story'

Saunders has many memorable analogies for this principle. One is to pretend you’re a bouncer in a place called Club Story, questioning each part of the narrative: “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?” A perfect story has a good answer to that question in every instance.

Saunders has many memorable analogies for this principle. One is to pretend you’re a bouncer in a place called Club Story, questioning each part of the narrative: “Excuse me, but what are you doing here?” A perfect story has a good answer to that question

A reader’s brain picks up on all sorts of things (e.g. plot points, use of language, structural devices, points of view). But elements that stick out tend to warrant a mental classification all their own. Saunders likes to label this file “Things I Couldn’t Help Noticing” (TICHN).

A reader’s brain picks up on all sorts of things (e.g. plot points, use of language, structural devices, points of view). But elements that stick out tend to warrant a mental classification all their own. Saunders likes to label this file “Things I Couldn

The point is not to avoid details that will be filed under “TICHN”; it’s to make sure they ultimately become virtues. How? By serving the heart of the story. When something feels random, it fails to be meaningful. Instead of being engaged, our brain gives us an error message.

The point is not to avoid details that will be filed under “TICHN”; it’s to make sure they ultimately become virtues. How? By serving the heart of the story. When something feels random, it fails to be meaningful. Instead of being engaged, our brain gives

Readers will endure all kinds of reading states – even when they can’t stand a character – as long as there’s a payoff. If I tell you a knock-knock joke with a 15-minute aside that’s irrelevant to the punchline, your brain will deduct marks for inefficiency and find it less funny.

Readers will endure all kinds of reading states – even when they can’t stand a character – as long as there’s a payoff. If I tell you a knock-knock joke with a 15-minute aside that’s irrelevant to the punchline, your brain will deduct marks for inefficien

When the protagonist of Kafka’sThe Metamorphosis wakes up one morning as a giant insect, you don’t respond by flinging the book away. Instead, your reading state shifts gear and you think: “Okay Kafka, where are you going with this?” The trick to perfecting that lies in Part 2...

When the protagonist of Kafka’sThe Metamorphosis wakes up one morning as a giant insect, you don’t respond by flinging the book away. Instead, your reading state shifts gear and you think: “Okay Kafka, where are you going with this?” The trick to perfecti

How to captivate a reader

A golden rule for Saunders is: Always be escalating. When a story goes nowhere, it’s like going on and on about the dream you had last night. The difference between an anecdote and a narrative is escalation. It effectively says, “Then something happened that changed everything.”

A golden rule for Saunders is: Always be escalating. When a story goes nowhere, it’s like going on and on about the dream you had last night. The difference between an anecdote and a narrative is escalation. It effectively says, “Then something happened t

The natural flow of a story is like energy. In a bad story, it dissipates. In a good story, that energy is transferred cleanly from one beat to the next. Each section of a story should follow the same structure as the overall narrative: action that escalates toward a climax.

The natural flow of a story is like energy. In a bad story, it dissipates. In a good story, that energy is transferred cleanly from one beat to the next. Each section of a story should follow the same structure as the overall narrative: action that escala

Establishing momentum means “advancing the story in a non-trivial way”. Your writing should be able to contain delightful color as well as important information. Aim to refine the story to a point that each scene changes the characters somehow.

Establishing momentum means “advancing the story in a non-trivial way”. Your writing should be able to contain delightful color as well as important information. Aim to refine the story to a point that each scene changes the characters somehow.


The story as a whole should alter the main character forever. It deliberately starts at one point and ends at another in order to frame that transformation. This is why you don’t hear about Romeo’s 10th birthday, Saunders says, or the years where Luke Skywalker doesn’t do much.

The story as a whole should alter the main character forever. It deliberately starts at one point and ends at another in order to frame that transformation. This is why you don’t hear about Romeo’s 10th birthday, Saunders says, or the years where Luke Sky

Here’s a basic transformation: the protagonist’s way of doing things stops being effective, e.g. Scrooge gives up his humbug ways and becomes kind hearted. It's not that he turns into a new person; Scrooge simply realizes that he lost his way. This is causality at work: one meaningful thing leads to another.

Here’s a basic transformation: the protagonist’s way of doing things stops being effective, e.g. Scrooge gives up his humbug ways and becomes kind hearted. It's not that he turns into a new person; Scrooge simply realizes that he lost his way. This is cau

Causality might sound like basic common sense, but Saunders says two things tend to separate writers who publish from those who don’t: 1) A willingness to revise 2) The ability to create causality. Causation is to stories, he writes, as melody is to songs.

Causality might sound like basic common sense, but Saunders says two things tend to separate writers who publish from those who don’t: 1) A willingness to revise 2) The ability to create causality. Causation is to stories, he writes, as melody is to songs

Plot emerges from specificity. The more you can revise your writing to get meaningfully specific, the more internal dynamics you produce. And the more relevant info a reader has, the more empathy they can feel for your character. Unfortunately, this is never totally in your control.

Plot emerges from specificity. The more you can revise your writing to get meaningfully specific, the more internal dynamics you produce. And the more relevant info a reader has, the more empathy they can feel for your character. Unfortunately, this is ne

Plans are comforting. But you can’t plan a good, natural conversation. Life doesn’t work that way. It’s the same with creativity: good art isn’t built by just executing an intention. You have to leave room for magic to happen – enough to take the reader on a surprising journey.

Plans are comforting. But you can’t plan a good, natural conversation. Life doesn’t work that way. It’s the same with creativity: good art isn’t built by just executing an intention. You have to leave room for magic to happen – enough to take the reader o

Saunders calls this magic “writerly charm”: it could be honesty, humor, evocative language, realistic dialogue – anything that compels the reader to keep going. Figuring out what unique charm you offer the reader takes countless hours of intuitively refining your artistic impulses.

Saunders calls this magic “writerly charm”: it could be honesty, humor, evocative language, realistic dialogue – anything that compels the reader to keep going. Figuring out what unique charm you offer the reader takes countless hours of intuitively refin

So why put yourself through these endless efforts at honing your writing? Because, unconsciously, the reader can tell. If you’ve cycled through dozens of versions before getting a section just right, that shows. It manifests as presence. Let’s take a closer look in Part 3.

So why put yourself through these endless efforts at honing your writing? Because, unconsciously, the reader can tell. If you’ve cycled through dozens of versions before getting a section just right, that shows. It manifests as presence. Let’s take a clos

Energy and escalation

Saunders compares storytelling to a motorbike with a sidecar. The writer = the driver, the reader = the passenger. The goal is to keep that connection as tight as possible, so whenever the writer turns, the reader follows. If the space in-between is too great, the connection gets lost.

Saunders compares storytelling to a motorbike with a sidecar. The writer = the driver, the reader = the passenger. The goal is to keep that connection as tight as possible, so whenever the writer turns, the reader follows. If the space in-between is too g

Revision is key to establishing that connection. In a conversation, you can tell when someone is listening to you, when they’re engaged and being truthful. Every time you revise your writing, you get to improve your presence in the conversation: “to be there more attentively”.

Revision is key to establishing that connection. In a conversation, you can tell when someone is listening to you, when they’re engaged and being truthful. Every time you revise your writing, you get to improve your presence in the conversation: “to be th

When Saunders edits his work, he pretends he has an internal meter with “Positive” on one side and “Negative” on the other. He goes over each line as if reading it for the first time, seeing if the needle on this imaginary meter tells him if the text is good enough or not.

When Saunders edits his work, he pretends he has an internal meter with “Positive” on one side and “Negative” on the other. He goes over each line as if reading it for the first time, seeing if the needle on this imaginary meter tells him if the text is g

Once an edit is made, Saunders repeats that process (“watch the needle, adjust the prose”) countless times until the text has gone from being sloppy to satisfying. This practice is purely “intuition + iteration” – and not analytical, he says. Each tweak is felt more than decided.

Once an edit is made, Saunders repeats that process (“watch the needle, adjust the prose”) countless times until the text has gone from being sloppy to satisfying. This practice is purely “intuition + iteration” – and not analytical, he says. Each tweak i

That sounds awfully intense, doesn’t it? But Saunders insists this method of editing is liberating. You can get playful with your tweaks knowing that you can change them later. Your first draft just needs to exist. Revising takes it from ordinary to special. That’s the nature of writing.

That sounds awfully intense, doesn’t it? But Saunders insists this method of editing is liberating. You can get playful with your tweaks knowing that you can change them later. Your first draft just needs to exist. Revising takes it from ordinary to speci

Cutting text is a great way to revise. Just by deleting something banal, boom: you’ve got one less boring bit – and space for something better. But cutting also helps your voice emerge. This is why first drafts are bad: you don’t sound distinct from everyone else yet.

Cutting text is a great way to revise. Just by deleting something banal, boom: you’ve got one less boring bit – and space for something better. But cutting also helps your voice emerge. This is why first drafts are bad: you don’t sound distinct from every

It doesn’t matter if you’re looking at a painting, attending a concert, or watching a film, you automatically know one thing for sure – whether you’re connecting to it or not. Writing is about figuring out where those points of connection lie and then building on them.

It doesn’t matter if you’re looking at a painting, attending a concert, or watching a film, you automatically know one thing for sure – whether you’re connecting to it or not. Writing is about figuring out where those points of connection lie and then bui

Fiction is an invention. Readers are (unconsciously) asking themselves “Does this feel true?” with every passing line. If yes, they keep going. When a story comes alive, they don’t think about word choice. They think about the character’s decisions and compare them to their own.

Fiction is an invention. Readers are (unconsciously) asking themselves “Does this feel true?” with every passing line. If yes, they keep going. When a story comes alive, they don’t think about word choice. They think about the character’s decisions and co

Your work will feel insignificant when compared to great masters like Hemingway. That’s just the way it goes. It will, however, be your work. And if you’re committed, if you keep refining, it will eventually grow into its own stature.

Your work will feel insignificant when compared to great masters like Hemingway. That’s just the way it goes. It will, however, be your work. And if you’re committed, if you keep refining, it will eventually grow into its own stature.


Bottom line: To tell better stories, listen to the voice inside you that knows what it likes, then honour that voice. Be efficient. Escalate constantly. Show, don’t tell. Use relevant detail. Don’t worry about all the little decisions to be made. You’ll only find the answers by getting on with it.

Bottom line: To tell better stories, listen to the voice inside you that knows what it likes, then honour that voice. Be efficient. Escalate constantly. Show, don’t tell. Use relevant detail. Don’t worry about all the little decisions to be made. You’ll o

Planning and refining

A Swim in a Pond in the Rain

The George Saunders guide to writing good stories

Writing ✍️

Creativity 🧑‍🎨

Inspiration 🍀

Reading 📙

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Senior Editor, Memo’d. I’ve spent years interviewing artists and CEOs, scientists and psychologists, on a constant quest for inspiration. My focus: creativity.