The best and worst sparring partners I’ve ever had

How to be actually helpful in a creative conversation

If your first instinct is to tell someone what they should do, you’re not helping.

Every writer, every creator, at some point, needs someone else to think with. Someone who helps them say the messy version out loud, so they can find the sharper one.

And if you’re the one listening, how you do it makes all the difference.

Early Listeners

The people you talk to early on, before the idea is even an idea, can shape what the work becomes. Or if it becomes anything at all.

I’ve spent years helping other writers and creatives sharpen their thinking in these early-stage idea sessions.

And as a writer myself, I lean heavily on sparring conversations. Messy chats where a rough idea turns into something draftable.

I’ve had plenty of creative sparring partners. Some clarified my ideas beyond what I thought possible.

Others made me want to drop the whole thing.

The Steamroller

The worst ones don’t even know they’re doing it.

This particular guy, I’ll call him Mark, nodded solemnly when I asked him to just reflect back what he heard.

Barely two sentences in, he interrupted me.

“I think you should reframe your whole essay around personal growth. That’s a stronger point.”

The whole “conversation” went on like this.

He couldn’t help himself. Assuming, over-eager, and completely convinced he knew better.

Not only did he straight-up ignore my request and fail to hear what I’d said, he simply replaced it with unsolicited, misplaced, and misguided advice that broke my concentration and made me lose the thread I was barely grasping to begin with.

He totally hijacked the idea. I left the session annoyed, scattered, and feeling more disconnected from the idea than when I started.

The Mirror

Let’s call her Anna.

She didn’t just listen. She gave me (and my rambly ideas) the kind of attention that made me want to keep talking.

Her whole presence was calm and encouraging. Like she genuinely believed there was something worth hearing in what I was trying to say.

I could go off on tangents and she’d make sure we circled back. I could be messy, confusing, and unclear. She’d invite me to refine, to try again, and to find what was really underneath.

My ideas had breathing room. She gave me the space to explore and get to the bottom of what I was meaning to say.

Her full focus was on me and my thinking the entire time. And it didn’t just work (I walked out with a crisp point of view and an outline), it felt so good.

Like being handed back my own idea, but cleaner, brighter, and more alive.

It’s Not What You Think

Those two conversation partners? They don’t really exist.

They’re stitched together from traits I’ve seen in countless real-life sparring sessions.

They’re also both me.

Before and after I learned to listen in a way that helps someone find their own clarity.

Back then, I genuinely thought I was being helpful: offering suggestions, jumping in, steering the idea toward something “better.”

But I wasn’t listening. I couldn’t reflect. I interrupted, hijacked, redirected. And worse: I thought that was the job. I thought I was doing them a service.

When I started using the skills I’d been trained in as a coach (listening, reflecting, staying out of the way) in creative conversations, I found they made just as much of a difference.

I could hand someone back their own thinking. But much clearer, because they had uncovered it themselves.

How To Actually Help

Somebody else’s rough idea doesn’t need your take. It needs your attention.

Because when someone’s trying to make sense of an idea (their idea), they’re not looking for your feedback or your opinion. They’re looking for a space to think, clarify, and stay connected to what they mean.

If you don’t know how to give them that space, they’ll turn to someone else. Or to AI. Personally, I’d much rather spar with ChatGPT than with a well-meaning hijacker.

But if you can listen well, reflect without steering, ask instead of telling, and track what actually matters to them, you become the person they come to.

Effective listening means more than nodding along. It’s paraphrasing to show you understood and invite them to refine. It’s asking open-ended questions like “what does this idea mean to you?” and knowing when to stay quiet, so they can follow their own thread.

It’s creating a space where their ideas can flourish.

If your first instinct is to help, that’s excellent. But real help doesn’t start with opinion or advice.

It starts with listening.

That’s the skill. And it’s trainable.

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P.S. I’m building an offer for people who want to become great sparring partners, and find others who can do the same for them. If you want to sharpen how you think, talk, and collaborate around ideas, hit reply and I’ll keep you in the loop.