You need another head, to get out of yours

Why writing is a team sport

Writing is easy. As long as you know what you want to say.

And that’s where my problems used to start.

When I sat down to write, reading back the note I’d scribbled down (hoping it would be the start of a draft) I’d almost instantly feel discouraged. Whatever creative energy I had deflated like a tiny balloon, letting out a sad little whine.

Not because my ideas weren’t interesting, but because they were nowhere close to being writable.

So “sitting down to write” always turned into the familiar cycle of stressing out, slaving over drafts, and only figuring out what I meant after I’d already started writing.

There’s a big difference between the spark of an idea and something that’s actually ready to write, and I had no clue how to get from one to the other.

Until I discovered the missing piece.

Talk First

I found it when I realized I could apply what I learned in coaching to my writing practice.

I’d already been trained and practicing as a coach, so I’d experienced the power of thinking out loud with someone else.

Getting the ideas out of my own head (and into someone else’s) was often the only way to actually see them clearly. That kind of clarifying conversation seemed like exactly what my writing process had been missing.

So when I joined a community-based writing course, I saw an opportunity to try something.

I started organizing what I called “sparring sessions”: short, focused conversations between writers designed to help each other shape an idea before writing.

And it worked. Like, really worked.

For the first time, I could stay with an idea long enough to turn it into something writable, without all the painful friction that had stopped me before.

And it wasn’t just me. The need for a space to “spar” was so overwhelming, I felt compelled to keep organizing more and more of these sessions.

We’d meet on Zoom, I’d give a short intro (based on the most fundamental coaching skills): “How to listen, how to reflect, how to not hijack each other’s ideas.” Then we’d pair off into breakout rooms to help each other develop early ideas into something we could actually outline and write.

One person would talk through their ideas. The other would help them see it more clearly.

It took off. The sessions became wildly popular. And when the course creators saw how much traction these had, they made it part of the official program.

Because it wasn’t just helpful. It was foundational. This was the missing piece.

Never Again

I realized then and there: I was never going to write alone again. Sparring became my creative infrastructure. The place where all writing starts. Where ideas stop swirling around in my head and start taking a shape I can actually work with.

It’s easy to think writing is a solo sport. If it’s my idea, shouldn’t I be able to figure it out?

But if you keep your ideas locked in your head, never expressed or allowed to breathe, they stay stale, foggy, and messy.

Ideas only really come into focus when we try to explain them. When someone listens, reflects, and helps us find the thread.

Getting them out (and into someone else’s head) doesn’t just make things easier, it creates stronger ideas, and takes all of the friction out of the process.

The idea is still yours. The words are still yours.

But the clarity? That’s co-created.

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P.S. I’m currently building an offer for writers who want to build a consistent practice around sparring. If you’re interested, just hit reply and I’ll keep you in the loop.