Questions to Ask About Writing
For anyone with something to write, whether an essay, a report, a post or a story, these are the questions to ask when writing, in the order a piece gets written. The first three groups are for you: what to settle before you start, the questions to ask while writing, and the ones to put to a finished draft. The fourth is for a reader you trust with your writing, and the last two are for another writer, about how they actually work.
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The questions
Each question, and why to ask it
Before writing
Who is going to read this, and what do they already know about the subject?
Why ask it
Name one real person, not "a general audience". What that person already knows decides which terms need defining and which background you can skip, and a lot of unclear writing is clear writing aimed at the wrong reader.
What do I want the reader to know, feel or do when they reach the end?
Why ask it
Pick one of the three verbs. A complaint letter wants a refund, a lab report wants a result understood, a wedding toast wants a room on its feet, and each of those calls for a different opening and a different last line.
Can I say the main point in one or two sentences before I start?
Why ask it
Say it aloud to someone, or type it at the top of the page and delete it at the end. If it takes a paragraph, or begins with "it's sort of about", the thinking isn't finished and the draft is where you will end up doing it, slowly.
Why does this need to be written at all, and why now?
Why ask it
The answer usually belongs in the first paragraph, because the reader is wondering the same thing. If the only reason is that it was assigned, look for the question inside the assignment that you would actually like answered.
What kind of piece is this, and what do readers of that kind expect?
Why ask it
A cover letter, a blog post, a short story and a grant report each come with a usual length, order and tone. Read two good examples before you begin and note what both of them do in their first three lines.
What exactly does the assignment, brief or prompt ask me to do?
Why ask it
Underline its verbs. Compare, argue, summarize and propose each ask for a different piece, and a good essay that answers some other question still misses. If a rubric or a house style came with it, read that first, and ask whoever set it about anything unclear.
Who, what, when, where, why and how: which of the six can't I answer yet?
Why ask it
These are the reporter's six, and they work on an essay topic as well as a news story. Jot a line for each without stopping. The one that stays blank, often why or how, is usually where the piece should spend its time.
What do I already know, and what do I need to find out before I can write it?
Why ask it
Make two lists. The second tends to be shorter than the dread suggested, which stops research from becoming a way to put off the first sentence. Anything on it that can be marked "check later" should be.
How long should this be, and how long do I have?
Why ask it
A word limit and a deadline are decisions already made for you, so use them. Divide the length among the parts before drafting: an 800-word piece with four points has about 150 words for each once the opening and the close are paid for.
What is the one example, story or number this piece can't do without?
Why ask it
Abstract points are remembered by the case that carried them. Finding that case first often hands you the opening as well, and if no example comes to mind the point may not be as solid as it felt.
While writing
What am I trying to say in this paragraph?
Why ask it
The one to reach for when a paragraph has been rewritten four times and still sounds wrong. Look away from the screen, finish the sentence "what I mean is" in plain words, then type exactly that.
What would a reader want to ask right after this sentence, and do I answer it next?
Why ask it
Prose that feels easy to follow is mostly answering questions in the order they come up. "Such as?", "why?" and "so what?" are the usual three, and the next sentence should take whichever one the last sentence raised.
Am I still writing the piece I set out to write?
Why ask it
Drafts drift, and sometimes the drift is the better piece. Check against the one-sentence point you began with, then decide on purpose: steer back, or change that sentence and follow the new direction.
Is this the right place for this idea, or did I only just think of it?
Why ask it
First drafts are ordered by when things occurred to the writer, which is rarely the order a reader needs them in. Leave it where it fell, with a note to yourself beside it. Moving it is a job for the revision.
Am I stuck because I don't know what comes next, or because I don't like how it sounds?
Why ask it
The two need opposite cures. Not knowing what comes next is a thinking problem, solved away from the page with a list or a walk. Not liking the sound is an editing problem, and the cure is to write the bad version and move on.
What can I leave as a placeholder and come back to?
Why ask it
A missing date, a better word, a name to check: type TK or a pair of square brackets and carry on. Stopping to look something up breaks a run of sentences that can be hard to get going again.
Would I say it this way to someone sitting in front of me?
Why ask it
Catches the stiff voice that turns "use" into "utilize" and "now" into "at this point in time". The spoken version is usually shorter and friendlier, and in most kinds of writing it is the one to keep.
Where will I stop today so that tomorrow is easy to start?
Why ask it
Stopping in the middle of a part you know how to finish leaves a running start for the next session. Add one line on what comes next, since the plan that feels obvious tonight can be gone by morning.
Your draft
What is this draft really about, now that it exists?
Why ask it
Read it through once without fixing anything, then write the point in one sentence again. If it differs from the sentence you started with, believe the draft and rework the opening to match what you ended up saying.
Does the opening earn the next paragraph, or is it warming up?
Why ask it
Cover the first paragraph and begin at the second. Plenty of drafts improve at once, because the first paragraph was the writer finding a way in and the reader has no need to watch that happen.
Does the title or subject line tell the reader what they are about to get?
Why ask it
In an inbox or a list of search results it may be the only line anyone sees. Write it last, once you know what the piece turned out to say, and try three versions before settling on one.
Where would a tired reader give up?
Why ask it
Picture them at the end of a long day with ten other tabs open. Mark every place where you skim your own words, because a writer who is bored there has a reader who left a paragraph earlier.
Can I say what each paragraph does in five words in the margin?
Why ask it
Write those few words beside every paragraph and then read only the margin. That column is the real outline of the piece, and gaps, repeats and anything out of order show up there in a way they never do in the full text.
What would the piece lose if I cut this part?
Why ask it
Ask it of every paragraph, and then of the sentences you like best. When the honest answer is "nothing, but I worked hard on it", move the passage to a separate file. A folder of cuts makes cutting hurt much less.
What happens when I read the whole thing aloud?
Why ask it
The ear catches what the eye forgives: a sentence too long for one breath, the same word three times in two lines, a joke that falls flat. Tick each stumble in the margin and fix them afterwards, so the reading is not interrupted.
Which words is my reader likely to trip on?
Why ask it
Jargon, abbreviations, and names introduced once and then assumed. Go through as the person you named before you started, and either explain the term where it first appears or swap it for the plain one.
Does the ending finish the thought, or does it only repeat the beginning?
Why ask it
A close that restates the opening is safe and forgettable. See whether the last paragraph can go so that the piece ends on the strongest line already there, or leave the reader with the one thing to do or think about next.
Have I checked the facts, names, numbers and quotes against where they came from?
Why ask it
Give this a pass of its own, with nothing else in mind. A misspelled name or a wrong date costs more trust than a clumsy sentence, and these are the mistakes a spell checker cannot see.
Is it clear which words and ideas are borrowed, and from whom?
Why ask it
Quotation marks go around someone else's exact words, and an idea you took from a source gets that source's name even when the wording is yours. The format depends on the school, publication or employer, so ask which citation style they expect.
Ask a reader
Can you tell me in a sentence what you think this is saying?
Why ask it
Ask it before you explain anything. If their sentence matches yours, the piece works at the level that matters most. If it doesn't, the distance between the two sentences is your revision plan.
Where did you have to read something twice?
Why ask it
Kinder to answer than "what's wrong with it", because it asks for a place and not a verdict. Don't defend the passage. Two readings means it is unclear, whatever you meant by it.
Where did your attention drift?
Why ask it
Invite them to draw a line in the margin at the spot, with no need to say why. The cause usually sits a paragraph or two before the mark: a point made twice, or background that could have waited.
What did you expect to find here that wasn't?
Why ask it
Readers arrive with questions of their own, and a missing answer bothers them more than a weak paragraph does. For anything that argues or explains, this is how you find the objection you never thought to address.
Which part would you keep exactly as it is?
Why ask it
This is not fishing for praise. Without the answer you may revise away the best thing in the piece, and it also shows what the reader took the whole thing to be for.
What would you say back to this if we were talking?
Why ask it
Suited to an essay, an opinion piece or a proposal. Their reply is either the counterargument your draft should deal with or proof that they understood it, and both are worth having before it goes out.
Is there anything here that sounds unlike me, or like I'm trying too hard?
Why ask it
Friends and colleagues hear the false note at once: the borrowed phrase, the joke that strains, the paragraph written to impress. It takes some nerve to ask, so save it for a reader who knows your ordinary voice.
Ask a writer
What are you working on now, and how far into it are you?
Why ask it
Better than asking what they write, because it gets a specific project instead of a category. The how far part also tells you whether to expect enthusiasm or the flat middle stretch, which colors how they answer everything after it.
When in the day do you write, and what happens when you miss it?
Why ask it
Listen hardest to the second half. Some writers lose a day and shrug, others lose a week and describe it as falling off a ladder, and that tells you whether the routine is a habit or a fragile arrangement.
How much do you know about a piece before you start?
Why ask it
Some writers outline and some find out by writing, and each camp tends to think its own way is the sensible one. Follow up with what they do when the plan stops working, since that is where the technique shows.
What does your first draft look like: fast and rough, or slow and nearly final?
Why ask it
Their answer tells you where the revising happens. A fast drafter is likely to do the real work in the rewrite, while a slow one may be revising sentence by sentence as they go and find it harder when a whole piece has to be reordered.
Where do your ideas usually come from: something overheard, something read or something remembered?
Why ask it
Three concrete options get past the shrug that the bare version of this question tends to produce. Whichever they choose hands you the follow-up: how much of what they overheard, read or remembered survived into the finished piece.
Do you have a particular reader in mind while you write?
Why ask it
Some writers picture one person, sometimes a friend, sometimes someone they want to convince or annoy. Writers with no reader in mind often produce prose that explains too much or too little, and this is where that habit starts.
How do you know when a sentence isn't working?
Why ask it
Expect something physical more than analytical: reading aloud, a stumble in the rhythm, a word their eye keeps skipping. Few questions get a writer closer to describing craft, and the answer is rarely the same from one writer to the next.
What's the habit you cut on every single pass?
Why ask it
Everyone has one: too many adverbs, characters nodding, every scene opening with weather, a favorite construction repeated eleven times. That someone can name theirs is evidence they revise seriously rather than tidy.
What's the hardest thing you've had to cut?
Why ask it
Losing something good hurts enough to be remembered, so this gets a real story: the chapter that was the reason they started, the joke that four readers stumbled over. It also shows whether they can put the piece above their own favorites.
Who reads your drafts first, and what do you ask them to look for?
Why ask it
What a writer tells that first reader to look for matters more than who the reader is. Asking someone to say where they got bored produces usable notes; asking whether they liked it produces reassurance. If nobody reads their drafts, ask what they do instead of a reader.
How do you decide something is finished rather than just abandoned?
Why ask it
Hardly anyone has a clean answer, which is why the question is worth asking. Look for whether they have any external test, a deadline, a reader, a submission date, or whether pieces simply stop when they lose patience.
What are you reading, and is it leaking into your prose?
Why ask it
Plenty of writers will admit that it does. Some stay away from strong voices while drafting for exactly this reason, which is a practical trick you can borrow.
A writing life
How much of your writing time is actually spent writing?
Why ask it
For many working writers the answer is a fraction, with the rest going to research, editing other people's work, invoices and email. It is a good corrective for anyone who pictures the job as uninterrupted composition.
Which writer did you imitate before you sounded like yourself?
Why ask it
Imitation is a common way to learn, and few writers volunteer it unasked. The answer dates their apprenticeship and often explains a tic in their current work that they no longer notice.
What piece of feedback changed how you write?
Why ask it
Often it is one blunt sentence from years ago, remembered word for word. It is also a gentle way to learn what they were struggling with back then, without asking about weaknesses outright.
What do you do in the stretch where you think the whole thing is bad?
Why ask it
Many writers hit this stretch somewhere past the middle, and it helps to hear another one describe it. Notice whether their remedy is to keep going, to go back or to start something new, since the last is how work stays unfinished.
What have you abandoned, and do you think you'll go back to it?
Why ask it
Writers tend to talk freely about abandoned work, since nothing rides on it any more. Listen for whether they know why it stalled, because that reason is often the lesson they carried into the next piece.
How do you handle rejection, and how long before you send it out again?
Why ask it
One for a writer who sends work out, so check that first. The gap before it goes out again says more than the feelings do: a short one suggests they read a rejection as a decision about one piece and one editor, not as a verdict on them.
What has writing cost you that you did not expect?
Why ask it
Money, evenings, a friendship with someone who recognized themselves, the pleasure of reading without noticing technique. Asked plainly, this gets an honest answer, and it tells you more than a question about discipline would.
What do you want to have written in five years that you can't write yet?
Why ask it
It asks them to name a gap in their own ability, and many writers can do that precisely: dialogue, plot, endings, writing about their own family. Remember the answer, because it is the natural thing to ask about the next time you meet.
Putting questions to a piece of writing, a reader and a writer
Practical guidance for the conversation itself
Which questions to ask when writing, and when to leave them alone
- Spend ten minutes on the Before writing group, on paper. The reader and the one-sentence point are the two answers every later question leans on, so keep them at the top of the draft until it is finished.
- Asking questions for writing ideas is a prewriting method in its own right. Put who, what, when, where, why and how to your subject, answer each in a line, and you have notes to write from in place of a blank page.
- Do not run a checklist in the middle of a sentence. The While writing questions are for the moments you stop anyway: a paragraph that will not come right, a draft that has wandered, the end of a session.
- Leave a gap before the Your draft group, overnight if the deadline allows and a walk around the block if it does not. Then work from large to small: the point, the order, the cuts, the sentences, and the facts last.
- Scale the list to the piece. An email needs three: who is reading, what you want them to do, and how it sounds read aloud. A long essay or a chapter can take every group.
- The last two groups work on yourself as well as on another writer. Answer them in writing and look hardest at the vague answers. Set your answer about first-draft speed next to your revision plan, because a stalled project is often a mismatch between the two.
Questions to ask about your writing when someone else reads it
- Pick two or three questions from the Ask a reader group and send them with the draft. A reader told only to "have a look" will fix commas, because commas are the easiest thing to be sure about.
- Say what stage the piece is at. Notes on word choice are wasted on a draft whose order is about to change, and a reader who thinks it is the final version will not suggest starting over.
- Choose the reader for the piece. Someone like your intended audience can tell you whether it lands; someone who writes can tell you why it does not. One of each is plenty.
- While they answer, write down what they say and resist explaining what you meant. The page will not have you standing beside it.
- Treat the place where a reader had trouble as reliable and their proposed fix as optional. When two readers stop at one spot, something is wrong there, even if each suggests a different cure.
- Thank them, and tell them later what you changed. That is the difference between a reader who helps once and one who will read the next piece.
In a writing workshop, or when the draft is someone else's
- 1Ask the writer what kind of note they want before you give any. Structural notes on a draft that only needs a line edit waste everyone's afternoon.
- 2Then ask what they were going for. Good questions to ask in a writing workshop are about intent, such as what a scene or a section is meant to do, because a note only helps if it serves the piece the writer is trying to make.
- 3Report your experience as a reader rather than issuing instructions: where you were confused, where you skimmed, where you stopped believing it.
- 4Mark the places that worked, specifically. Writers cut good pages by accident when nobody tells them which ones landed.
- 5Separate the piece they wrote from the piece you would have written. Only the first one is your business.
- 6Say the difficult note plainly and once. Softening it across four paragraphs makes it easier to miss than to hear.
Asking a writer about their work
- Ask about process rather than meaning. How something was made is answerable; what it means is the reader's job and most writers dislike being asked to do it for you.
- Ask about one specific choice you noticed: a shift in tense, a chapter that ends early, a character who never speaks. A precise question shows you read closely, and it is easier to answer than a general one.
- If you have read their work, say which part and why. If you have not, say so and ask what it is about rather than bluffing.
- Give them room to be unimpressive. Questions that assume a disciplined routine make honest answers harder to give.
- Skip "where do you get your ideas". It is too broad to answer and every writer has been asked it many times over; the version in the Ask a writer group offers three concrete sources to choose from.
- Instead of "is the narrator you", ask how close the material is to their own life, which lets them choose how much to say.
- With someone unpublished, ask what they are hoping to do with the piece, not when it is coming out. If money matters to the conversation, ask whether writing pays their bills or sits alongside other work.