The two kinds of writing coach

Years ago, when I was a fledgling editor, I hired a writing coach.

The coach I chose seemed like a great fit during our discovery call. We shared a love of fantasy, had similar personalities, and connected over my history of overcoming creative perfectionism.

But once we started the coaching, things got a little weird.

I wanted feedback and engagement with my writing. In my mind, the ideal writing coach was an expert mentor and brainstorming partner. They were someone who knew my story almost as well as I did, saw what I was missing, and supplemented my self-study of the craft with their teachings.

My coach didn’t seem to want to do any of this.

Getting concrete feedback, especially criticism, from her was like trying to draw blood from a stone. Her quick read-throughs of my work weren’t deep enough to yield any ideas I hadn’t already thought of. And beyond using some terminology in the outlining framework she used with clients, there was no discussion of the craft.

Instead, she praised my writing. While appreciative, I remained unmoved because I didn’t want praise; I wanted to be a better writer. She barely responded when I pointed out possible areas for improvement. She kept trying to start conversations about me while I watched the clock, wondering why we were wasting time talking about things that weren’t writing.

It was only because I worked with my coach in a small-group setting that I saw that my experience was not universal.

One of my groupmates was new to writing and needed a lot of reassurance about her choices. She wanted craft help, too, but on a more basic level than my requests.

My coach lit up when it was this person’s time to be coached. She talked my groupmate through her doubts and gave one or two small plot ideas, which my groupmate gratefully took up without discussion.

I saw how my groupmate’s face cleared by the end of every call. The coaching obviously helped her.

I ended each call dissatisfied… and, frankly, baffled.

What I – and probably my coach herself – didn’t understand at the time was that there are two kinds of writing coach.

The two kinds of writing coach

The Therapist

I call the first kind of writing coach the Therapist. This is who my coach was.

Therapist-type coaches focus on the writer.

Most are interested in craft and may have studied it extensively. But overall, for them, coaching means diagnosing and attending to what within the client is holding them back creatively – usually psychological blocks such as perfectionism, performance anxiety, limiting beliefs, and cultural conditioning.

Therapists typically talk writers through these issues. Because psychological blocks don’t happen in a vacuum, that often means discussing many aspects of the writer’s life, not just their creative practice. With a Therapist, you may find yourself talking about your childhood, the busy life that keeps you from writing, the voices in your head that tell you you’re not good enough. You may cry.

Therapists also often give small, approachable ‘homework’ to help clients ease into a new, less self-judgmental approach to writing.

Their goal is to open up writing as an avenue for self-expression. Therefore, the coaching has succeeded when the creative juices get flowing (again), regardless of the quality of the writing.

Some Therapists see craft as a thing to deal with later – during revision, for example. Others don’t believe in assessing quality at all; for them, authenticity is what matters.

The Craftsperson

I call the second kind of writing coach the Craftsperson. This is the kind of coach I wanted.

Craftsperson types focus on the writing.

Most are open to listening when a writer is feeling blocked and talking them through an episode of overthinking. Some are deeply interested in the psychology of creativity. But overall, Craftspeople are at their best when there’s actual story material to critique and develop.

These coaches have a deep respect for writing as an art and are excited to help bring out the full potential of a writer’s ideas. They typically read substantial pieces of a writer’s work, give written or spoken feedback, and offer time for brainstorming and follow-up discussion of the feedback. Writers benefit from the Craftsperson’s insight into their writing and expert knowledge of what makes stories tick.

A Craftsperson will leave the writer with new clarity around where their writing currently is; specific, concrete ideas for improving it; and a deeper understanding of how storytelling works. The writer is that much closer to finally seeing what’s inside them manifested on the page.

Craftspeople tend to believe that a good relationship with your creative practice only gets you so far. Writing is a skill like any other and must be learned, especially if you want to write stories that other people will enjoy.

‘So which kind of coach do I need?’

The therapist

Probably for you if…

• Your struggles are writing-adjacent, not about your material itself. ‘I’m avoiding my writing.’ ‘I can’t seem to make the time even though my writing matters to me.’ ‘Writing isn’t fun anymore.’ ‘I think I’m a bad writer.’ These are all Therapist problems. Some might require actual mental health counselling (your coach should let you know if they believe that’s the case), but many are common blocks that a Therapist coach’s active listening and accountability support can shake loose.

• Your skin hasn’t thickened a little. Some people write regularly but are terrified of showing their work and receiving criticism (or even just an underwhelming response). This rules out most typical writing support – peer critique, courses, editing – but can be a great match for a Therapist-type coach, who can serve as a gentle, enthusiastic first reader and help the writer uncover the roots of their fear.

Probably not for you if…

• You want to go deep on a specific story. One Therapist-type coach I know outright said that she’s probably not the right person for a writer who wants to sit down and brainstorm an outline with her. (On the other hand, she can listen to a writer talk about their struggles for hours and stay completely engaged.)

• You want someone to ‘give it to you straight’. Without overgeneralising, I have to say that the Therapist types I’ve met prefer to avoid anything that smells like criticism or ‘imposing’ on a writer’s work. This makes sense. When your main aim is to be a safe place for writers to explore themselves without judgment, judging their work can feel just on the wrong side of your ethos. Still, that’s problematic for writers looking for honest feedback.

The craftsperson

Probably for you if…

• You want to focus on learning the craft. You’ve got some writing under your belt and want objective, honest feedback on it. You want to write stories that readers – strangers – will like. You feel the gap between your vision and your execution. You’ve read craft advice and/or dissected good books – or are willing to. These are all Craftsperson problems. Show an openness to learning and to reworking your ideas, and they’ll immediately take you under their wing.

• You want a creative collaborator. Craftspeople tend to dive deep into their clients’ stories. They’ll see things that you and other readers missed or don’t want to admit. If you want a brainstorming partner who learns your story well enough to give genuinely useful suggestions, this is the kind of coach you want. The story will still be yours. They’ll just help you use storytelling principles to say what you wanted to say all along but didn’t know how.

Probably not for you if…

• You’re not actually doing much writing or ideation. With the Craftsperson, there’s an often implicit agreement that it’s the writer’s responsibility to sort themselves out and come to the coach with material to discuss. This doesn’t have to be polished work. Many Craftspeople can work with outlines, scribbles, and ideas and enjoy helping you shape them. But if you come to a session stuck in the same place as last time and haven’t tried or considered their advice, you won’t get much out of their strengths.

• You want praise more than critique. Be honest about this. Some Craftspeople don’t find it worth spending a lot of time on what’s already working in a text. If you’re secretly looking for someone to gush about your work, their feedback is unlikely to hit that spot. I’ve worked with a coach with strong Craftsperson tendencies. Normally, I don’t fish for compliments. But with her, I’ve found myself blurting out, ‘But did I do X well? Did you like Y?’ just to get a few crumbs of praise on a story she claimed she really enjoyed. She’s also the coach who’s done the most to improve my writing.

A caveat

Just because one type of coach appeals to you now, don’t assume you’ll never need the other one.

Writers need different help at different times.

An anxious writer might shudder at the thought of handing over their work to a Craftsperson as they read this article. But after working on themselves, they’ll eventually itch to move on to deeper feedback than the average Therapist coach wants to give.

Likewise, a prolific writer who needs the Craftsperson today may find themselves utterly blocked with no idea why tomorrow – and suddenly grateful that the Therapist type exists.

And, again, there are coaches who can embody both archetypes. I consider myself one of them. But my default mode is the Craftsperson, and I take pains to signal that in my messaging.

Not all coaches make their preferences clear, and that’s why the advice below is important.

How to choose a writing coach

There’s no foolproof method to distinguish Therapists and Craftspeople without working with them. But I’ve found these signals reliable more often than not.

1. Look at their messaging.

A few coaches I’ve seen are obvious about their preferred mode. There are Therapist types who call themselves ‘creativity coaches’ (albeit ones who focus on writing) to highlight their focus on the creative process rather than the work itself. Meanwhile, some Craftspeople use terms like ‘story consultant’.

Usually, though, you’ll need to read between the lines.

Go to the blog, channel, or social media profile of a coach you’re interested in.

Look at their marketing content. Is there a lot about shame, perfectionism, procrastination, writer’s block, etc.? Do they emphasise having fun or getting words down on the page? Do they focus on the writer’s identities? Do they feel like they’re trying to coax beginners out of their shells? Probably a Therapist type.

(Note: Don’t assume a coach isn’t a Therapist because they’re not warm and fuzzy. Steven Pressfield – not a coach per se, but he has a whole brand around giving writing advice – has a Therapist approach. His most famous book for writers is titled The War of Art and is all about treating ‘Resistance’ to writing like an enemy to be defeated at all costs.)

Or do you see a lot of craft terminology and advice, lists of mistakes writers make, dissections of popular stories, etc.? Does the coach emphasise mastery and assume that readers of their content want their writing to be published someday? Can you guess just by looking at the coach’s content that they’re very well-read and passionate about books? Probably a Craftsperson type.

2. Use the discovery call.

Most coaches offer a no-obligation introductory session.

When you do this with a coach, make it very clear what you’re looking for: craft help or psychological blocks.

Keep the conversation on thechallenges you actually want help with, and see how the coach responds. If they keep steering the conversation towards unblocking the flow of your creativity, they’re probably a Therapist. If they keep trying to diagnose the problem within the writing itself, they’re probably a Craftsperson.

3. Ask.

On the discovery call or over email, try asking the coach something like:

‘I’ve noticed that some coaches focus more on helping clients overcome psychological blocks to writing and some focus more on giving clients feedback on their writing. Which one do you consider yourself?’

You might be wondering why asking alone isn’t enough. Why bother with the other two steps? The answer is that not all coaches are experienced or self-aware enough to tell you the truth. They may well give you only a tentative ‘Um… Both?’ Or they could be one of the rare birds who are equally good at both.

But some might have a strong opinion one way or another once you bring up the topic. That data is useful enough to make the question worth asking.

Why didn’t coaching help me?

My coach wasn’t incompetent. She had strengths – just ones I didn’t need at the time.

We weren’t a good fit, and neither of us noticed until it was too late.

As a new coach who didn’t yet know herself well, she presented as both Therapist and Craftsperson in her marketing and the discovery call.

And I, as a young writer, wasn’t discerning enough to notice the lack of evidence that she could be the Craftsperson I needed.

We both assumed that all writing coaches should be both types.

I quit working with my coach after the initial six-month commitment. I won’t say I didn’t get anything out of the experience, but overall, it had been an expensive lesson.

It was only once the Therapist/Craftsperson dichotomy clicked that I began choosing coaches, editors, and other professionals who were right for me.

Need a Craftsperson coach in your writing life? I offer one-off, on-demand Chat Consultation coaching sessions, as well as the Story Structure Rescue, a special coaching intervention for writers who are stuck.