Last Updated on October 19, 2025 by Amanda Smith
Steal Like an Artist: The Secret Writing Tricks of Famous Authors
Let’s be honest. Staring at a blank page is terrifying. You want to write something beautiful, something powerful, but your own mind feels like a desert. I’ve been there. So many times. The cursor just blinks, mocking you.
Here’s the secret no one tells you in creative writing class: You don’t have to invent it all from scratch. The greats didn’t. They learned by studying the masters who came before them. They stole techniques, adapted styles, and made them their own. And you can, too.
This isn’t about copying plots or characters. It’s about understanding the creative writing techniques that make their work tick. It’s about building your own toolkit, filled with proven methods from literary legends. Think of it as your personal apprenticeship with the best in the business.
Why Bother Studying the Masters?
I used to think reading for “technique” would ruin the magic. It doesn’t. It makes it more magical. It’s like learning how a magician does a trick. Suddenly, you see the artistry behind the illusion, and you can start practicing the sleight of hand yourself.
When you understand how Hemingway builds tension with simple sentences, or how Morrison weaves history into the present, you’re not just reading a story. You’re getting a masterclass. You’re filling your creative well with more than just ideas—you’re filling it with methods.
Trust me on this one. The next time you’re stuck, instead of just waiting for inspiration, you can reach into this toolkit and try a new approach. It changes everything.
The Toolbox: Authors and Their Signature Moves
Let’s get into the good stuff. Here are some of the most influential authors and the specific, stealable techniques they used to shape modern literature.
Ernest Hemingway: The Power of the Iceberg
Hemingway is the king of saying less to mean more. His “Iceberg Theory” (or Theory of Omission) is a foundational creative writing technique. He believed that the deeper meaning of a story should not be evident on the surface. Like an iceberg, only oneeighth is above water. The rest—the emotion, the backstory, the tragedy—lurks beneath, felt but not seen.
How to Steal It: Write a scene of intense emotion—grief, anger, love—but don’t name the emotion. Don’t let the characters talk about it directly. Focus on the physical details: a character tightening their grip on a coffee mug, the way they stare just past someone’s shoulder, the sound of a distant train. Let the reader’s mind connect the dots and feel the weight of what’s unspoken. It’s infinitely more powerful.
Funny story, I once wrote a breakup scene where the only action was two people silently doing the dishes. The tension was thicker than any shouting match I could have written. All thanks to Papa Hemingway.
Toni Morrison: Weaving the Past into the Present
Morrison’s genius lies in her treatment of time. She rarely tells a story in a straight line. The past isn’t a memory; it’s a living, breathing character that haunts the present. In novels like Beloved, history is a ghost, literally and figuratively. She uses a fluid, nonlinear narrative to show how trauma, legacy, and memory are never truly behind us.
How to Steal It: Don’t just have a character “remember” something in a flashback. Let the past intrude. A smell triggers a visceral, physical reaction. A piece of dialogue in the present echoes an argument from years ago. Weave fragments of the past into the presentday action, creating a rich tapestry of cause and effect. The Pulitzer Foundation has a great archive of her lectures that dive into her narrative philosophy.
Kurt Vonnegut: Shape and Simplicity
Vonnegut was a master of making the complex feel simple. He had rules. My favorite? “Start as close to the end as possible.” He understood that readers don’t need all the boring setup. They need the meat of the story, the moment everything changes.
He also believed in the shapes of stories. He famously graphed story arcs, arguing that the oldest and most satisfying is “Man in a Hole”: a character gets into trouble and then gets out of it. Simple. Effective.
How to Steal It: Before you write a story, try sketching its emotional shape on a graph. Does it go up? Down? Up and then down? This simple exercise forces you to think about the reader’s emotional journey. And when you’re editing, be ruthless. Cut the first two paragraphs. I’m serious. You probably started too early.
George Orwell: Political Prose and Clarity
Orwell’s mission was to make political writing into an art. And his rules for writing are a cheat sheet for clear, powerful prose. His six rules are legendary, but the big ones are: Never use a long word where a short one will do. If it is possible to cut a word, always cut it. Never use the passive voice where you can use the active.
How to Steal It: Print out Orwell’s rules and tape them to your monitor. During your second draft, go on a “purge.” Hunt for Latinate words (utilize, facilitate) and replace them with AngloSaxon ones (use, help). Slash every unnecessary adverb and adjective. Your writing will instantly become more muscular and direct. It’s one of the most practical writing tips from famous authors you’ll ever get.
Stephen King: On Dialogue and “The Fossil”
King’s advice on dialogue is pure gold: “Good dialogue is not about recording actual speech. It’s about giving the illusion of real speech.” Real speech is full of “ums” and boring tangents. Fictional dialogue is a sharpened, purposeful version.
He also talks about stories as fossils. The writer’s job isn’t to create the fossil, but to carefully unearth it. The story already exists, whole, in the ground. You just have to dig it out without breaking it.
How to Steal It: Read your dialogue out loud. Does it sound like people talking? Or does it sound like a stiff, formal essay? Let characters interrupt each other. Let them avoid questions. And trust the “fossil.” Sometimes the best plotting happens when you stop forcing the story to go your way and start listening to what the characters would actually do.
J.K. Rowling: The Architecture of WorldBuilding
Before a single word of Harry Potter was published, Rowling had built an entire world. Her famous spreadsheet, which you can find online, plotted every book’s events against the timeline of the school year. She knew the rules of her magic, the history of her families, and the geography of her world inside and out. This architectural planning allowed her to create a universe that felt incredibly real and consistent.
How to Steal It: You don’t need a 100page bible, but you do need consistency. Create a “series canon” document for your story, even if it’s a short one. Note down character descriptions, key dates, and the rules of your world (e.g., “magic has a physical cost”). When you’re deep in chapter ten, you won’t have to flip back to chapter one to remember your hero’s eye color. The British Library once hosted an exhibit of her notes, and seeing the planning behind the magic is a revelation.
Gabriel García Márquez: Making the Impossible Feel Inevitable
The master of Magical Realism, Márquez’s greatest trick was his tone. He presented the most fantastical events—a girl ascending to heaven while hanging laundry, a plague of insomnia—with the same straightforward, matteroffact detail as he did the color of the sky. The magic isn’t questioned because the narrator doesn’t question it.
How to Steal It: If you’re introducing a magical or surreal element into a realistic story, don’t have your characters gasp in awe. Have them react to the practical implications. If it rains flowers, don’t just describe the beauty. Describe the mess it makes, how the petals clog the gutters, the strange scent that lingers for days. Ground the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Your Turn at the Bench
Okay, you’ve seen the tools. Now it’s time to get your hands dirty. Here’s how to move from admiring these techniques to actually using them.
The Imitation Exercise: Pick one page from an author you admire. Hemingway for dialogue, Morrison for description, Vonnegut for structure. Type it out, word for word. Feel the rhythm of their sentences, the choice of words. Then, write a new scene of your own, but try to mimic their style as closely as possible. It feels like forgery, but it’s training your brain to think in new patterns.
The Technique Swap: Take a scene you’ve already written. Now, rewrite it using a specific technique from this list. What does your breakup scene look like with Hemingway’s Iceberg Theory? How does your fantasy story feel with Rowling’s architectural detail? The biggest mistake I see people make is just reading about these ideas. You have to actively break them and fix them yourself to truly learn.
Here’s a pro tip from my own experience: Keep a “Commonplace Book.” It’s just a fancy name for a notebook where you copy down sentences or paragraphs from books that blow your mind. Not just what they say, but how they say it. Analyze them. Why does this sentence work? This is your personal list of famous authors for inspiration, curated by you.
Frequently Asked Questions
Won’t I just end up copying another author’s style?
At first, maybe a little. But that’s part of the process. You imitate to learn, just like a painter studies the old masters. Eventually, you’ll take a bit of Hemingway’s simplicity, a dash of King’s dialogue, and a pinch of Morrison’s timelessness, and blend it with your own unique voice and experiences. That synthesis is where your authentic style is born.
What if my favorite author isn’t on this list?
Fantastic! This list is just a starting point. The real work begins with your own bookshelf. The next time you read a book you love, read it like a writer. Ask yourself: What is this author doing that’s so effective? How are they building suspense? Making me care? Then add them to your personal toolkit.
How do I find my own voice while studying others?
Your voice is already in you. It’s your sense of humor, your obsessions, your unique way of seeing the world. Studying technique is just learning how to better express that voice. It’s the difference between a singer with a great natural voice and one who has also trained in breath control and pitch. The training doesn’t erase the soul; it gives it more power.
So, go pull a favorite book off your shelf. Don’t just read it for pleasure this time. Read it like a thief in a museum, looking for the alarms to disable and the gems to pocket. Underline sentences. Scribble notes in the margins. Ask “how did they do that?”
The tools are all around you, waiting to be used. Your next great story is too.