Ray Blasing
I love this question, because I deeply appreciate our next generation of writers.
First, embrace writing as a craft, not a gift. Like any skill I discuss in General Career Intelligence—whether decision-making, communication, or emotional management—writing improves with deliberate practice, honest feedback, and a willingness to push past discomfort. You can’t become a confident writer by waiting for inspiration; you become one by writing consistently, across many contexts, until the uncertainty gives way to clarity and competence. Like most things in life, there are no shortcuts.
Write often, and write in different forms. Each format exercises a different creative muscle: books require structure and endurance, articles demand precision, business plans require logic and persuasion, and letters of condolence call for emotional intelligence and compassion. In Advanced Career Intelligence, I emphasize that stepping beyond your comfort zone is how growth happens—so treat each writing task as a chance to stretch your abilities rather than something to fear.
When writing opportunities arise, raise your hand. Volunteer. Offer to draft the proposal, the presentation, the team summary, or the delicate email that everyone else avoids. It’s similar to public speaking: the fear diminishes only when you confront it repeatedly, and eventually the confidence becomes second nature.
And don’t write alone in an echo chamber. Seek critique from people you trust—people who will push you, challenge your clarity, and point out blind spots. You don’t grow from applause; you grow from thoughtful correction. Both of my books benefited enormously from people who were willing to tell me when something wasn’t working.
Further, don’t take your English, literature, and composition teachers for granted. Although I trained as a technologist and spent decades in engineering, as I rose through leadership roles I discovered that I was spending more time writing than engineering. My responsibilities—and the stakes—grew, and writing became not just useful but enabling. Everything I learned in high school composition and college English came rushing back when I needed it most. Some of the best writing advice I ever received came from high school teachers I barely appreciated at the time. Don’t make that mistake. Those foundations will stay with you for life, and one day, they may be the difference between competence and exceptional impact.
And use AI sparingly—after you’ve built your own foundation. Over-reliance on any tool prevents the underlying muscles from strengthening. I learned this vividly during my flight training: you’re only truly safe when you can fly using the basics—pilotage, dead reckoning, and core instrumentation. GPS and automation are wonderful…until they fail. Then your fundamentals either save the day or leave you in deep trouble. Writing works the same way. Build your skills first. Learn to think clearly, structure ideas, revise with intention, and express yourself in your own voice. Once those fundamentals are solid, AI becomes a helpful assistant; without them, it becomes a crutch that quietly weakens you.
Finally, remember that writing is an act of generosity. You’re distilling your experience, insight, and perspective into something that might someday help someone you will never meet. That purpose-driven mindset—combined with practice, persistence, and humility—is what turns aspiring writers into real ones.
First, embrace writing as a craft, not a gift. Like any skill I discuss in General Career Intelligence—whether decision-making, communication, or emotional management—writing improves with deliberate practice, honest feedback, and a willingness to push past discomfort. You can’t become a confident writer by waiting for inspiration; you become one by writing consistently, across many contexts, until the uncertainty gives way to clarity and competence. Like most things in life, there are no shortcuts.
Write often, and write in different forms. Each format exercises a different creative muscle: books require structure and endurance, articles demand precision, business plans require logic and persuasion, and letters of condolence call for emotional intelligence and compassion. In Advanced Career Intelligence, I emphasize that stepping beyond your comfort zone is how growth happens—so treat each writing task as a chance to stretch your abilities rather than something to fear.
When writing opportunities arise, raise your hand. Volunteer. Offer to draft the proposal, the presentation, the team summary, or the delicate email that everyone else avoids. It’s similar to public speaking: the fear diminishes only when you confront it repeatedly, and eventually the confidence becomes second nature.
And don’t write alone in an echo chamber. Seek critique from people you trust—people who will push you, challenge your clarity, and point out blind spots. You don’t grow from applause; you grow from thoughtful correction. Both of my books benefited enormously from people who were willing to tell me when something wasn’t working.
Further, don’t take your English, literature, and composition teachers for granted. Although I trained as a technologist and spent decades in engineering, as I rose through leadership roles I discovered that I was spending more time writing than engineering. My responsibilities—and the stakes—grew, and writing became not just useful but enabling. Everything I learned in high school composition and college English came rushing back when I needed it most. Some of the best writing advice I ever received came from high school teachers I barely appreciated at the time. Don’t make that mistake. Those foundations will stay with you for life, and one day, they may be the difference between competence and exceptional impact.
And use AI sparingly—after you’ve built your own foundation. Over-reliance on any tool prevents the underlying muscles from strengthening. I learned this vividly during my flight training: you’re only truly safe when you can fly using the basics—pilotage, dead reckoning, and core instrumentation. GPS and automation are wonderful…until they fail. Then your fundamentals either save the day or leave you in deep trouble. Writing works the same way. Build your skills first. Learn to think clearly, structure ideas, revise with intention, and express yourself in your own voice. Once those fundamentals are solid, AI becomes a helpful assistant; without them, it becomes a crutch that quietly weakens you.
Finally, remember that writing is an act of generosity. You’re distilling your experience, insight, and perspective into something that might someday help someone you will never meet. That purpose-driven mindset—combined with practice, persistence, and humility—is what turns aspiring writers into real ones.
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