A few years ago, on Zest Podcast, I had the chance to speak with journalist and Pulitzer Prize winner Jacqui Banaszynski about writing, motivation, and the ever-present topic of writer’s block.

Jacqui has spent decades reporting, editing, and teaching journalism. She won the Pulitzer Prize in 1988 and today edits Nieman Storyboard and mentors writers worldwide.

Our conversation started with writer’s block, but expanded into how writing works when you treat it as a craft rather than a mystical act.

Here are a few lessons and ideas that stayed with me.

Writer’s block isn’t mysterious

When I asked Jacqui whether writer’s block is real, she gave a nuanced answer.

Most people say they experience it, so in that sense, it exists. But in her own life, she never allowed it to become a permanent explanation.

Writer’s block wasn’t allowed in my life. It’s still not. I write a newsletter every Friday. Nobody is saying, if you’re not feeling up to it this week, don’t worry about it.

What Jacqui sees more often than writer’s block is writers getting stuck. They lose confidence, they don’t know where the story should go next, and eventually they begin to dread sitting down at the keyboard.

At that point, many writers start waiting for inspiration, the muse, the perfect idea that will make everything click.

Jacqui’s response to that is that writing is work.

It’s like weeding your garden or cleaning your house. If you don’t do the work, you’re never going to do the writing.

The myth of inspiration can actually become an obstacle. If we imagine writing as a purely artistic act that requires the right mood, we risk postponing it indefinitely.

Instead, Jacqui suggests approaching writing the same way we approach other kinds of work: sit down, start, and deal with what shows up on the page.

You have to be willing to write badly

One of the principles Jacqui shares in her workshops may be uncomfortable for some:

In order to write, you have to be willing to suck.

Even after decades of writing, she still has days when the work isn’t very good. But that doesn’t stop her from writing.

In journalism, deadlines force you to keep going. You write the story, send it out, and then you write the next one. That rhythm creates momentum and gradually improves your skills.

It also removes some of the pressure. Jacqui’s goal isn’t literary perfection. Most of the time, it’s clarity and accuracy.

Writing is construction, not magic

One of the most useful parts of our conversation was Jacqui’s explanation of the writing process. She describes writing as construction.

You’re building something — with ideas, information, and words — the same way a carpenter builds a table or a house. And like any construction project, writing happens in stages.

1. Start with an idea. The idea can be vague, but something has to spark the process. Without an idea, there’s nothing to explore.
2. Report the idea. In journalism, this means reporting, interviewing, and researching. In other forms of writing, it may simply mean gathering information or observing the world closely. Either way, you need material.
3. Focus the story. This is where many writers get stuck. What exactly is the story about? Where does it begin? What belongs in it — and what doesn’t? Jacqui told me this is the step where she personally struggles the most.
4. Organize the material. Once the focus is clear, structure becomes possible. You decide: where to start, what comes next, how readers move through the story, and where the story ends.
5. Revise. Only after the structure is in place does the polishing begin. This step happens every time you write.

Knowing these steps makes a huge difference because when you get stuck, you can diagnose where the problem is.

A practical trick for thinking through a story

Jacqui shared a detail about her process that I loved.

When she’s struggling to focus a story, she does simple physical tasks: washing dishes, making the bed, sweeping the floor.

These activities require very little mental energy, which frees her mind to work through ideas in the background. Eventually, something clicks. Then she sits down and writes.

Writing doesn’t always happen at the desk.

A good story starts with reporting, not beautiful writing

Many people assume that great writing can rescue a weak story. Jacqui believes the opposite.

If you have the right information and material, even an average writer can make a story work. But beautiful writing without substance is just “stringing pretty words together.”

As an editor and teacher, she prefers working with writers who are curious reporters rather than writers who simply want to produce elegant sentences.

Because once the material exists, writing can always be improved. But if the material isn’t there, nothing can save the story.

How to recognize a good idea

Another question I asked Jacqui was how do you know if an idea is good?

Her answer had three parts.

First, the idea must fit the audience. A great idea for one audience may be irrelevant for another.

Second, the idea keeps you engaged in the discovery process. If it still excites your curiosity after some initial research, that’s a good sign.

Third, other people show interest when you talk about it.

If you share the idea and people lean forward or ask questions instead of changing the subject, you may have something worth pursuing.

Good stories also tend to offer readers one of two things:

• validation (“yes, that’s exactly how it feels”), or
• discovery (“I had no idea about this”).

The Yoda approach to writing

Toward the end of the conversation, we talked about what Jacqui jokingly calls the Yoda approach to writing. It comes from the famous line in Star Wars:

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

For Jacqui, that line captures the mindset journalism taught her. In daily reporting, you don’t sit down and “try” to write. You write the story and send it out. Then you write the next one.

Writing is an action. It doesn’t happen in your head. It happens on the page.

Jacqui describes herself less as an artist and more as a craftsperson. Writing is a way to connect people to information, experiences, and worlds they wouldn’t otherwise see. And as long as there’s something new to learn, she keeps going.

I’ll leave you with my favorite quote from our conversation:

Humans have been telling stories since they first picked up ochre and wrote on the rocks in prehistoric times. And we’re still going to be telling stories when we learn how to write on the stars.