A few weeks ago, my hubby and I celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary. Here in the UK—it might be different in the US—an eighth anniversary is pottery, so rather than buy each other pottery, I suggested a taster class in throwing some actual clay.
Now, if you’ve ever watched a potter at work—hands coated in clay, shaping a vessel from a spinning wheel—you might not immediately think of writing. But as I made my vessels—three, thank you very much—I got to thinking that fiction and pottery have more in common than you’d expect. Both are creative processes that require patience, skill, and a willingness to embrace imperfection. Whether you’re sculpting a novel or throwing a bowl, here are a few lessons fiction writers can take from pottery.
1. Start with a Lump of Clay (or an Idea)
A potter begins with raw material—an unformed lump of clay. It’s not beautiful yet, but it holds infinite possibilities. Writers, too, start with an unshaped idea, a messy first draft, or even just a spark of inspiration. The important thing is to get your hands dirty. Don’t wait for a perfect idea to arrive fully formed—start working with what you have, and let the shaping happen as you go.
2. Centring Is Key
Before a potter can begin shaping, they must centre the clay on the wheel. If the clay isn’t centred, the piece will wobble and collapse. In fiction, centring means knowing your story’s core—whether that’s a strong theme, a well-defined protagonist, or a clear emotional throughline. If your story feels shaky or aimless, it may be because you haven’t found its true centre yet.
3. Shaping Requires a Gentle Touch
Pottery is a balance of control and surrender. Too much force, and the clay collapses. Too little pressure, and it won’t take shape. Writing is the same way—force your characters to act in ways that don’t feel natural, and the story will fall apart. Be too passive, and it may never take shape at all. A good novel, like a well-formed pot, emerges from a dance between structure and fluidity.
4. Embrace Imperfection
No handmade ceramic piece is exactly the same as another. A potter learns to accept small flaws—an uneven rim, a thumbprint left in the glaze—as part of the piece’s charm. Fiction writers, too, must accept that their work will never be “perfect.” A novel’s quirks and rough edges are often what make it memorable. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s authenticity.
5. Fire It in the Kiln
Once a pot is shaped, it must be fired in a kiln to harden and set. This is a crucial step; without it, the clay remains fragile. In writing, revision is your kiln. It strengthens your story, burns away what doesn’t belong, and reveals the true colours of your work. A raw first draft is just that—raw. Only through revision does it become something solid and lasting.
6. Let It Go
Once a ceramic piece is finished, it’s out of the potter’s hands. It may end up on a shelf, in someone’s home, or in a museum—but its fate is no longer theirs to control. The same is true for fiction. Once your book is out in the world, readers will interpret and experience it in their own ways. Your job isn’t to control their reactions—it’s to create something meaningful and let it go.
Final Thoughts
Both pottery and fiction require patience, persistence, and an openness to discovery. Not every piece will turn out the way you envisioned, and that’s okay. The joy is in the process—the shaping, the refining, and the willingness to try again.
So next time your writing feels like a mess of unformed clay, take a deep breath. Centre yourself. Keep your hands steady. And trust that, with enough care and practice, something beautiful will emerge.