Exercises — Chapter 39: Your Writing Life

This chapter is reflective, so its exercises are too: most ask you to analyze, plan, or commit, not just rewrite a passage. But writing is still learned by writing, so several ask you to produce real text—a marked-up critique, a practice plan, a revised artifact. Where a task is open-ended, a self-assessment rubric follows. All sample passages are anonymized composites—fictional but realistic. Fuller solutions to starred items live in appendices/answers-to-selected.md.

Difficulty: ⭐ warm-up · ⭐⭐ analyze/revise · ⭐⭐⭐ produce/plan/synthesize · ⭐⭐⭐⭐ extension.

Part A — Analyze This ⭐

Diagnose what's working or broken. Name the principle; don't fix it yet.

A1. A colleague says: "I write all day at work—emails, tickets, docs. I'm getting tons of writing practice." Using the chapter's distinction between experience and deliberate practice, name the two things their daily writing is missing.

A2. Read this sentence as a writer. Name three specific techniques the writer used (not "it's vivid" or "it flows"—the actual moves):

"By the time you finish this sentence, your phone has uploaded more about you than a private investigator could gather in a week."

A3. A reader finishes a tutorial and thinks, "Great, now I know how to set up the database." A second reader finishes it and asks, "Why did the author put the prerequisites in a callout box at the top instead of in step 1?" Which one is reading as a writer, and what does the second reader gain that the first doesn't?

A4. Here are two post-course writing plans. Without reading ahead, predict which one will still exist in six months, and name the single design flaw that dooms the other: - Plan 1: "Write 1,000 polished words every morning before work, plus a weekly newsletter and a podcast." - Plan 2: "Revise one work document a week before sending it; if the week is brutal, just revise one paragraph."

A5. Someone asks a friend for feedback with: "Hey, can you read my report and let me know if it's good?" Name what's wrong with this request and what kind of answer it will predictably produce.

A6. A talented junior analyst says, "I'll get serious about writing once I'm senior enough that it actually matters." Identify the two assumptions in this plan that §39.7 shows are false.

A7. ⭐⭐ Read this opening from a popular-science blog post as a writer. Name what it does well and one risk the technique carries:

"Black holes don't suck. That's the first thing to unlearn. A black hole is less like a vacuum cleaner and more like a hole in the floor you didn't see coming—harmless from across the room, fatal if you walk over it."

A8. ⭐⭐ Two writers each read the same confusing API doc. Writer 1 mutters "ugh, this is terrible" and moves on. Writer 2 stops and writes: "I got lost in §3 because they used client and session interchangeably without ever saying they're the same object." Explain, in terms of the curse of knowledge, why Writer 2's habit makes Writer 2's own drafts better.

Part B — Revise This ⭐⭐

Rewrite the text. Give the improved version.

B1. Turn required writing into a rep. Here's a first-draft status update, shipped unrevised. Revise it in one pass: lead with the bottom line, make it scannable, name the risk concretely, and state whether any action is needed. (This is the §39.3 move—deliberate practice on writing you had to do anyway.)

Subject: update "Hi everyone, wanted to share where we are on the customer portal redesign. It's been a productive couple of weeks and the team has gotten through a lot, though a few things took longer than we hoped because of some dependencies on the auth service that we didn't fully anticipate. Overall I'd say we're in decent shape but the timeline is a bit uncertain at this point. We'll continue to push forward and I'll send another update soon. Let me know if you have any questions!"

B2. Fix the feedback request. Rewrite each of these vague feedback requests into a located, deflection-proof question (§39.5). Each should point at the text and ask for an experience, not a verdict. - "Can you tell me if this is good?" - "Does this make sense?" - "Any thoughts on my draft?" - "Is it too long?"

B3. Rescue the doomed practice plan. Here's a plan built for an ideal self. Rewrite it into one built for a real, busy life—keeping the same goal (improving as a writer) but applying §39.3–§39.4's design rules (small, low floor, attached to a habit, feedback source, one target).

"Starting Monday, I'm going to write for two hours every single day. I'll publish a long, in-depth technical article every week, build an audience, and become a recognized voice in my field within a year. No excuses this time."

B4. Rewrite the verdict as a technique. Below are three pieces of "reading as a writer" that stop at a verdict. Push each one until it names the actual transferable move. - "The opening was really engaging." - "The explanation was super clear." - "The whole thing just flowed nicely."

B5. ⭐⭐⭐ The growth-narrative paragraph. Below is a (composite) Chapter-1 portfolio charter written by a student on day one. Pretend it's your day-one charter. Read it as a writer, then write a short paragraph (4–6 sentences) for your Chapter-40 growth narrative answering: what can I now diagnose as wrong with this that I couldn't see when I wrote it? Name specific principles and chapters.

"For my portfolio I am planning to focus on the area of cloud infrastructure as it relates to my work, which is something I am very interested in and that I think is important and relevant in today's industry. There are many aspects of this topic that could be explored and I want to make sure I cover the important ones in a way that is clear and well-organized so that readers will be able to understand the material and find it useful for their needs going forward."

Part C — Write This ⭐⭐–⭐⭐⭐

Scenario → produce the document.

C1. ⭐⭐ Analyze a piece you admire as a writer. Find a real piece of writing you genuinely admire in a genre you care about—a README, a paper abstract, a blog post, an email that moved you, a chapter of a book. Read it as a writer and produce a one-page craft analysis with three parts: (a) a one-line statement of what the piece is and who it's for; (b) a reverse-outline (the one-line job of each paragraph or section); (c) at least four specific, transferable techniques the writer used, each named precisely (a move you could steal, not a compliment). End with one sentence: which of these four will you try in your own next piece, and where?

Self-assessment rubric (C1): - Specific, not evaluative (×2 weight): Are your four techniques actual moves ("opened with the reader's problem," "one analogy, not strained," "each paragraph leads with its point") rather than verdicts ("clear," "engaging," "flowed")? If any item is a verdict, you haven't finished it. - Reverse-outline reveals structure: Does your outline expose the skeleton—could someone rebuild a similar piece from it? - Transferable: Could you actually apply each technique to a different topic? If a "technique" only works for this exact subject, it's an observation, not a tool. - Commitment: Did you name a specific place you'll use one of the moves next?

C2. ⭐⭐⭐ Design your post-course writing practice. Produce your Writing Practice Plan (the §39.4 deliverable, also your Project Checkpoint artifact). It must contain all four decisions, each one specific: - Format: exactly what you'll write, and for whom (pick one). - Frequency: how often, and the smallest version that still counts on your worst week (the floor). - Feedback source: a named reader, a community, or a specific self-review ritual. - Current target: the one specific weakness you'll work on for the next few weeks—pull it from your Learning Check-In (the technique you understand but don't yet do automatically). Then add two sentences: which existing habit will this practice ride on, and what's the first concrete action you'll take this week.

Self-assessment rubric (C2): Run it through the §39.9 "Built to Last?" checklist. If you can't check all six boxes—specific format, sustainable floor, feedback signal, current target, attached to a habit, reading-as-a-writer component—revise the plan until you can. A plan that fails the floor test ("is my minimum small enough to survive a brutal week?") is the most common and most fatal flaw; fix that one first.

C3. ⭐⭐⭐ The feedback-partner proposal. Write a short (under-150-word) message proposing a reciprocal writing-feedback arrangement to a specific colleague or friend. It should: state the ask in the first sentence (Chapter 19), make the exchange clearly mutual, set a concrete cadence (e.g., one piece a month each), and tell them what kind of feedback you want (point them at the §39.5 questions—"where did you get lost?"—not "is it good?"). Model the chapter's own advice in the message itself.

C4. ⭐⭐ Start your swipe file. Create a swipe-file entry for a passage you've encountered that worked. Include: the passage (quote it), one line naming why it worked (the technique), and a tag for the kind of problem it solves ("openings," "interpreting a caption," "saying no warmly"). Then write one sentence on how you'll keep the file (where it lives, when you'll add to it).

Part D — Synthesis & Critical Thinking ⭐⭐⭐

Cross-chapter integration and judgment calls.

D1. This chapter claims writing is a "compound skill"—gains in one genre raise your ceiling in others. Using at least three specific principles from earlier chapters (cite them by number), explain the underlying reason this is true. (Hint: what do all the genres share beneath the surface?)

D2. Chapter 12 said "match revision effort to stakes—over-revising a throwaway note is its own mistake." Chapter 39 says "keep a deliberate practice with a feedback loop." Are these in tension? Resolve the apparent contradiction: when should you not invest in revising or seeking feedback on a given piece, and how does that square with maintaining a practice?

D3. Find the flaw. A popular productivity blogger writes: "The secret to becoming a great writer is simple—just write 1,000 words every day for a year. Volume is everything. Do the reps and you'll be a pro." Using §39.1, identify the specific flaw in this advice and rewrite the claim into something true.

D4. Translate the chapter's thesis for three audiences. In one or two sentences each, make the case for "keep a deliberate writing practice after this course" to: (a) a fellow student who thinks they're "just not a writer," (b) a busy senior engineer who says they have no time, and (c) a manager deciding whether to fund a writing-skills program for their team. Notice how the same truth needs three different framings—this is Chapter 2's audience principle applied to your own argument.

Part M — Mixed Practice (Interleaved) ⭐⭐–⭐⭐⭐

These mix Chapter 39 with earlier chapters, so you must choose the right tool, not just the most recent one.

M1. You're handed a confusing internal wiki page to "clean up." Before you touch it, decide: is this primarily a job for revision (Chapter 12's hierarchy—content/structure first), an audience re-targeting (Chapter 2), a clarity pass (Chapter 3), or a reading-as-a-writer diagnosis (Chapter 39) to figure out why it's confusing? Pick the first move and justify it. (There's a defensible answer in more than one direction—the point is to choose deliberately.)

M2. You want to start a weekly blog (Chapter 28's territory) as your writing practice (Chapter 39). Sketch, in five bullets, how you'd combine the two chapters' advice: the practice-design rules from Ch 39 and the blog-craft rules from Ch 28 (the analogy as core tool, the jargon budget, the hook). Which Ch 39 rule keeps the blog alive, and which Ch 28 rule keeps it good?

M3. A colleague gives you brutal, vague feedback on your draft: "This is confusing and too long." Apply Chapter 12's receiving feedback discipline (the note is about the document, not you; hear the problem, weigh the prescription) and Chapter 39's reframe (feedback is permanent infrastructure). What follow-up question do you ask to convert this useless verdict into a located, actionable signal?

M4. You're choosing your next deliberate target (Chapter 39) and you suspect your weakness is "burying the conclusion." Which earlier chapter's principle is the direct fix, and design a two-week micro-practice that drills only that skill on writing you already produce.

Part E — Extension ⭐⭐⭐⭐

For motivated readers and the Deep Dive track.

E1. The five-year letter. Write a one-page letter to yourself five years from now, to be opened then. Describe the writer you are today (be specific—name two reflexes you've built and one you're still working on), the practice you're committing to, and the trajectory §39.7 predicts if you keep (or drop) the practice. The act of writing it is itself a rep; the prediction is a hypothesis you'll one day get to test.

E2. Build a personal style sheet. Over a week of reading as a writer, assemble a one-page "style sheet" of your own: the five techniques you most want to make automatic (drawn from your swipe file and your weakest areas), each with a one-line rule and a model example. This is the artifact a working writer actually keeps on the desk—a personal, ruthlessly short distillation of this entire book aimed at your specific gaps.

E3. Critique this chapter as a writer. Read Chapter 39's index.md as a writer and write a half-page diagnosis: where does it apply its own advice well, and where—honestly—could it be tighter? Find one paragraph you'd cut or compress, and say why. (The book claims every sentence must earn its place. Hold it to that. Disagreeing with the book, with reasons, is the highest form of reading as a writer.)

Selected solutions and rubrics: appendices/answers-to-selected.md. For the open-ended planning and analysis tasks (C1–C4, the Part E items), the rubrics above are the answer key—a finished, honest plan that passes the checklist is a correct response. The goal of this chapter's exercises is not a right answer but a practice you'll actually keep.

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