Thinking is thinking and writing is writing. We regret the confusion.<p>Writing is work. You start with words on paper (or on a laptop) and you keep on working until it isn't crap. You start with something. You end with something better.<p>What your college writing instructors were teaching you was your mistakes. Think about them and remember them. When they pointed out a mistake, keep on a lookout because you'll make that mistake again. People don't make random mistakes. They are very systematic in their mistakes. I still remember my corrections.<p>When I was in college my trick was to get a draft done a week before the deadline. It wasn't perfect. It was anything but perfect. But it was something. It said roughly, not perfectly by any stretch, what I wanted to say. Then I wrote, rewrote, edited, deleted, added, corrected, reworded, reordered, cited, formatted, spell checked, grammar checked, perfected, critiqued, tweaked, read aloud, questioned, ... on up to the deadline.<p>I worked. I didn't think. I worked. I didn't wait for some great thought to descend upon me from the clouds at the deadline (that works for Maureen Dowd but I'm not Maureen Dowd; she has talent and I don't). I worked. Fact is, I enjoyed my work. Pretty much a day before the deadline, I was damned cocky about my writing (lowest essay grade, A-) and <i>then</i> I really started having fun. At that point, I was relaxed and I really knew what I wanted. Like a cook who enjoys their own cooking, when I go back to re-read it, I thoroughly enjoy my own writing. The work and the craft show, to me at least. And if it doesn't show to me then it can't show to someone else.<p>Writing is work. It is closer to restaurant prep than it is to confiserie.