A few years back, I worked with a student on The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. We read the final few pages together, which are some of the most touching in the entire book. Just in case you still plan to read this exceptional novel, I won’t give away the ending. But I can say that, in a very creative and completely organic way, Steinbeck demonstrates the deeply felt humanity of the Joad family. I read those last passages and felt tears well up in my eyes.

I read a piece the other day about Steinbeck’s insecurities while writing The Grapes of Wrath. He had no idea if the book was any good and wasn’t sure it would find a market at all. Yet he felt compelled to write it and forced himself to work every day until it was finished.

Steinbeck kept a journal while writing the novel in which he poured out his worries, fears, and thoughts. I have found the journal to be quite comforting because he describes many of the same feelings every writer I know—including me—experiences. His basic message to himself was simple: sit down and do the work.

He also has this famous quote, which makes me laugh:

“The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true.”

Clearly, Steinbeck had an excellent sense of humor.

While working on the novel, he also wrote down a set of practical reminders—rules meant to keep him moving forward instead of getting bogged down in doubt.

1. Abandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. Lose track of the 400 pages and write just one page a day. It helps. Then when it is finished, you are always surprised.
2. Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Never correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. Rewriting during the process is usually an excuse for not going on. It also interferes with the flow and rhythm that comes from an unconscious association with the material.
3. Forget your generalized audience. The nameless, faceless audience will scare you to death and, unlike the theater, it doesn’t exist. In writing, your audience is a single reader. Sometimes it helps to choose one person—a real person you know or an imagined one—and write to that one.
4. If a scene or section gets the better of you but you still think you want it, bypass it and move on. When the whole draft is finished, you can return to it. You may discover that the reason it gave you trouble is because it didn’t belong there.
5. Beware of scenes that become too dear to you, dearer than the rest. Often they are out of proportion with the work as a whole.
6. If you are writing dialogue, say it aloud. Only then will it have the sound of real speech.

Perhaps the real lesson in all this is the one Steinbeck kept reminding himself of in his journal: sit down, trust the process, and do the work.