I focus on the writing and let the rest of the process take care
I focus on the writing and let the rest of the process take care of itself. I've learned to trust my own instincts and I've also learned to take risks.
The writer Sue Grafton, whose alphabet mysteries carried her name into the hearts of countless readers, once declared: “I focus on the writing and let the rest of the process take care of itself. I’ve learned to trust my own instincts and I’ve also learned to take risks.” These words, though spoken of the craft of literature, ring true for all who labor in art, in work, or in life itself. For they are not only a writer’s counsel but a warrior’s creed: focus on the task before you, trust the compass of your spirit, and dare the unknown with courage.
The ancients knew that mastery begins not with control of the whole, but with attention to the part that lies within one’s grasp. Did not Confucius teach that the superior man perfects his conduct moment by moment, and the whole of life follows? Did not the Stoics say: tend to what is yours to govern, and let Fortune play her hand? So too does Grafton remind us: focus on the writing, the word, the craft itself. The rest—the market, the critics, the rewards or failures—will follow their own course, as rivers flow to the sea. One must not be consumed by what lies beyond reach, but faithful to the work that rests in one’s hands.
Her call to trust instincts speaks to the wisdom of listening to the inner voice, that whisper of intuition the soul carries. Too often men and women are paralyzed by the noise of others—the judgment of peers, the demands of commerce, the shadows of doubt. Yet every great figure of history learned to follow that quiet inner flame. Consider Joan of Arc, a young girl who heeded voices within and rose to lead armies. She was mocked, doubted, and betrayed, yet her instincts carried her further than any external counsel could. In her, as in Grafton, we see the truth: to trust oneself is the beginning of courage.
And what of her final teaching, the call to take risks? Without risk, there is no greatness, only the small circle of safety where nothing new is born. Christopher Columbus risked the wrath of kings and the uncertainty of oceans; Rosa Parks risked her freedom by refusing to surrender her seat; Galileo risked condemnation by proclaiming the movement of the earth. In every age, those who risk carve the path forward. So it is in writing, in art, and in the daily choices of the humble life. To risk is to breathe deeply of existence; to fear risk is to wither before one has truly lived.
There is, too, an emotional power in Grafton’s words, for they carry not arrogance but humility. She does not claim to master every outcome, only to master her focus. She does not boast of certainty, only of trust in her instincts. She does not flaunt reckless daring, but speaks of risks weighed and taken. In this balance lies the secret strength of those who endure: they know what is theirs to shape, and what must be left to the currents of time.
From this we may draw a lesson for our own lives: be faithful to the task before you, however small. If you are a student, focus on learning, not on fame. If you are a craftsman, perfect your tools, and let the world discover their worth in its time. If you are a parent, love your children today, and trust that this love will ripple into the future. Do not be paralyzed by what lies beyond your reach. For in tending your part, you fulfill the whole.
Practical actions follow. Begin each day by naming the work that lies within your grasp, and set your hand firmly upon it. Listen to your inner voice before you drown in the noise of others; ask yourself what feels true, and honor it. And when the moment of risk comes—whether to speak truth, to leap into new work, or to break free from fear—take it, knowing that every great life is written in risks. In this way, you too may walk the path of Sue Grafton: focusing, trusting, risking, and thereby living fully, as one who leaves behind a story worth remembering.
Thus her counsel is not merely for writers, but for all who breathe: focus on the work, trust the spirit within, and risk the unknown. For in these three, the soul finds its strength, and the life of meaning is forged.
SSoiyo
Sue Grafton’s approach of focusing on the writing and trusting her instincts is so empowering. It makes me reflect on how often we allow fear or doubt to stop us from taking creative risks. Does she ever face moments of insecurity, or is this just a product of years of experience? How does one cultivate this kind of trust in their own abilities, especially in the face of uncertainty or criticism?
TKNguyen Truong Khang
Grafton’s ability to focus solely on the writing and let the rest take care of itself is an inspiring reminder of the power of confidence. I think many writers, myself included, often feel overwhelmed by all the other factors—publishing, reviews, marketing. Her approach suggests that the most important thing is to stay grounded in the creative process. But, can a writer truly let go of all these external pressures, or is it inevitable to feel the weight of them at times?
DMVu Duc Minh
I really admire Sue Grafton’s confidence in trusting her instincts and embracing risk. Writing can feel like such an unpredictable process, and her approach makes it seem less about forcing the outcome and more about letting it happen organically. But I do wonder—does taking risks always pay off, or are there instances when risks don’t work out as expected? How does Grafton deal with failure, especially when trusting her instincts doesn’t lead to success?
NNTran Le Nhu Nguyet
Grafton’s idea of letting the writing process unfold naturally by trusting her instincts and taking risks resonates with me. It makes me think—how often do writers actually trust themselves to this extent? So much of writing seems tied to self-doubt and external validation. How does Grafton manage to maintain this trust in herself, especially in a highly competitive and often critical industry? I’d love to know how she navigates those moments of doubt.
NHNgoc Huyen
Sue Grafton’s approach to writing is really refreshing. Focusing on the writing itself and letting everything else fall into place feels like a freeing mindset, especially in a world that often pressures writers to control every aspect of the process. I wonder though, how does she balance this sense of trust with the inevitable challenges that come with taking risks? Does trusting her instincts always work out, or are there times when she doubts her approach?