I Published 200+ Articles on Medium. The Biggest Mistake New Writers Make

You’re Not a Bad Writer. Your Taste Is Just Ahead of Your Skill.

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Years ago, filmmaker and storyteller Ira Glass explained a concept that has probably saved more creative careers than people realize. He called it “The Taste Gap.”

I’ve been on Medium for quite some time now, and after publishing more than 200+ articles, I’ve noticed a pattern that repeats itself over and over again. New writers arrive excited, motivated, and full of ideas. They publish their first article. Then another. Then maybe five more. Some are genuinely talented. Some have fascinating stories. Some have insights worth sharing. Yet a surprising number of them disappear within a month. And usually not because they’re bad at it.

Most of them quit because they misinterpret a completely normal stage of the creative process as evidence that they don’t belong. I know this because I’ve watched it happen to other writers, and if I’m being honest, I’ve felt it myself.

You spend hours writing something. You reread it three times. You fix awkward sentences. You find an image. You agonize over the title. You hit publish expecting to feel proud, only to read it back later and think, “This isn’t nearly as good as I wanted it to be.”

What’s even more brutal is looking around and seeing writers whose work seems effortless. Their stories flow. Their openings grab you immediately. Their ideas feel clear and memorable. Meanwhile, you’re staring at your own article wondering why it sounds flatter on the page than it did in your head.

Most people interpret that gap as failure.

It’s actually something else entirely.

The idea is simple but incredibly important. People often get into creative work because they have good taste. They know what great writing looks like. They can recognize a powerful story when they read one. They know when something is funny, moving, insightful, or memorable.

The problem is that their ability to recognize quality develops much faster than their ability to create it.

So they sit down to write.

And what comes out doesn’t match what they know is possible.

That’s where the frustration begins.

Imagine someone who loves music deciding to learn guitar. They’ve spent years listening to incredible musicians. They know exactly what a great performance sounds like. Then they pick up a guitar for the first time and realize their fingers don’t yet know how to create what their ears already understand.

The issue isn’t their taste.

The issue isn’t their potential.

The issue is simply that their skills haven’t caught up yet.

Writing works exactly the same way.

Many new writers quit because they think the disappointment they’re feeling is proof that they’re untalented. In reality, that disappointment often means the opposite. It means their taste is developed enough to recognize the gap between where they are and where they want to be.

Ironically, the people with the highest standards for themselves often suffer from this the most.

They know good writing when they see it.

They just can’t consistently produce it yet.

The keyword there is “yet.”

When I look back at some of my earliest articles, I can see every flaw immediately. The openings were weak. The structure wandered. The ideas weren’t nearly as sharp as I thought they were at the time.

[embed]The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat Oliver Sacks’ Case Studiesmedium.com

That’s supposed to happen.

If you look back at your old work and cringe a little, that’s usually a sign you’ve improved. The real danger isn’t writing something imperfect, it’s letting your frustration convince you to stop.

Because the writers who eventually succeed on Medium aren’t necessarily the most naturally gifted. They’re often the people who survive long enough for their skills to catch up to their taste.

That’s a much less glamorous explanation than talent.

But it’s usually the truth.

One of the biggest mistakes new writers make is expecting immediate evidence that they’re getting better. Writing doesn’t work that way. Improvement often happens quietly. You’ll publish twenty articles feeling like nothing is changing, then one day you’ll reread something from six months ago and realize you’ve become a completely different writer without noticing.

The progress was happening the whole time.

You were just too close to see it.

Medium makes this even harder because the platform constantly encourages comparison. Every day you see articles with thousands of claps, hundreds of comments, and headlines that seem impossible to compete with. It’s easy to assume everyone else has figured something out that you haven’t.

You don’t see the hundreds of mediocre pieces many successful writers created before they found their voice.

You’re comparing your beginning to someone else’s middle.

And that’s a game nobody wins.

If you’re in your first month on Medium and you’re feeling frustrated, disappointed, or convinced that everyone else is more talented than you, there’s a good chance you’re misreading the situation.

You are not a bad writer.

You are simply experiencing the uncomfortable space between knowing what great writing looks like and being able to create it consistently yourself.

And if you can make peace with that, you’ll already be ahead of the writers who quit before they ever had a chance to find out how good they could become.

[embed]Write For Only Humans — Submissions Now Open Stories that remind us we’re only human — and that’s enough.medium.com

Craig

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