When I first picked up Anne Lamott’s Bird by Bird, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to get out of it. Lamott writes about fiction and memoir, about the kind of writing that draws on personal memory, deep emotional truths, and a close relationship with storytelling. I don’t typically write that way. My writing tends to be more analytical—I like ideas, structure, context. I try to make sense of the world through observation and reasoning rather than plumbing the depths of my childhood.
Still, the book came so highly recommended, and so persistently, that I figured I’d give it a try.
It didn’t take long to see that Lamott isn’t just writing about fiction or personal essays. She’s writing about writing itself—about what it means to pay attention, to tell the truth, and to put that truth into a form that might help someone else see the world a little more clearly. Whether you’re working on a novel or a memo, the goal remains the same.
As I read, I came across something that stopped me: she was writing an idea that I’d been exploring in my writing a few months earlier. The ways our expectations can quietly drift into magical thinking. The belief that if we just want something badly enough—or believe in it with enough conviction—the world will somehow bend to meet us. And then, of course, the moment when it doesn’t.
In my case, I tried to get at this through a comedy sketch by John Finnemore. It’s an absurd little scenario involving a genie and a wish for world peace. A familiar setup, but one that unravels in a quietly revealing way.
In Finnemore’s bit, a woman receives a wish from a genie and asks for world peace. The genie, interpreting her request literally, suggests the only surefire way to complete peace would be to end all life, thus eliminating any potential for conflict. This absurd solution illustrates the pitfalls of magical thinking—believing that intense desire or sheer will can directly influence massive, real-world outcomes without unforeseen consequences.
The woman, recognizing the dire consequences, attempts to modify her wish to banish violence without causing harm, proposing that everyone could simply forget how to engage in conflict. However, this adjustment spawns its own chaos: by the next day, countries realize they can invade others without opposition, leading to a bizarre, non-violent scramble for power. This turn of events turns her hope for peace into a surreal and ineffective shuffle for dominance, where the desire for peace created just another form of turmoil.1
Rob Schlaff, The Perils of Magical Thinking
It’s a good sketch. Clever, dark in a gentle way, and it captures something important: how even well-intentioned hopes can produce strange outcomes when they meet the complexity of real life. Wanting peace is noble. But wishing it into being isn’t a plan—it’s just a hope with costume jewelry on.
I thought it was a pretty decent way of illustrating the idea.
And then I saw how Lamott tackled the idea in Bird by Bird:
“My son, Sam, at three and a half, had these keys to a set of plastic handcuffs, and one morning he intentionally locked himself out of the house. I was sitting on the couch reading the newspaper when I heard him stick his plastic keys into the doorknob and try to open the door. Then I heard him say, ‘Oh, shit.’ My whole face widened, like the guy in Edvard Munch’s Scream.
After a moment I got up and opened the front door.
‘Honey,’ I said, ‘what’d you just say?’
‘I said, “Oh, shit,”’ he said.
‘But, honey, that’s a naughty word. Both of us have absolutely got to stop using it. Okay?’
He hung his head for a moment, nodded, and said, ‘Okay, Mom.’
Then he leaned forward and said confidentially, ‘But I’ll tell you why I said “shit.”
I said okay, and he said, ‘Because of the fucking keys!’”
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life
She nails it. Not just the humor—though it’s very funny—but the emotional truth sitting quietly underneath. A child, holding the wrong tools and fully expecting them to work. When they don’t, he doesn’t calmly reassess his approach. He swears at the lock. We’ve all been there. Plastic keys in hand, expecting the world to open for us.
Where I used a sketch and a metaphor, Lamott gave us a real moment—a scene as ordinary as it is perfectly formed. She doesn’t explain it. She doesn’t need to. She just shows us the moment and lets the truth float up to the surface on its own.
It made me pause—not just because her version landed better, but because it pointed to a kind of storytelling I often forget to reach for.
So how does Lamott recommend to do it?
In Bird by Bird she doesn’t talk about chasing brilliance. She talks about attention, patience, and process. She recommends narrowing your focus—using what she calls the “one-inch picture frame”—and just writing what you can actually see. A single moment, a detail, something unremarkable that holds more weight than it first appears.
She also insists on the necessity of “shitty first drafts”—writing that isn’t polished or clever, but honest and unfiltered. The idea is to get past your own self-consciousness so that something real can emerge. It’s not always pretty, but it’s where the good stuff tends to live.
That’s what I can learn from Bird by Bird. How to make a collection of little bits of my life and sprinkle them through my writing.
Good writing is good writing anywhere.
Footnotes
- Here’s the whole thing from Season 8 Episide 5:
A woman rubs the lamp with a Genie in it.
Genie: I will give you one wish and only one wish. I will give you a piece of friendly advice that people who wish for medium sized tangible luxuries like a sports car have the highest post wish satisfaction.
Woman: That’s because people are selfish. But not me though. I wish for world peace.
Genie: OK, I can definitely to this is that’s what you definitely want. One completely peaceful world coming up. Unless you change you mind hint hint. But think about when is your house most peaceful.
Woman: When everyone is asleep. No, when no one is there… Wait, are you going to kill everyone?
Genie: All life full stop. Yes. I just give you whatever you ask for. That’s why it’s best to just ask for a sports car. I won’t drop it on your head or anything.
Woman: No. I don’t want a car. What other ways could we end war without killing everyone. Can’t you just make it impossible for people to fight?
Genie: I suppose I could take everyone’s limbs off them.
Woman: What if we made everyone forget how to fight. And be incapable of learning. A world without violence.
Day 1: Mysterious memory loss strikes worldwide. No one knows how to fight. First recorded day in history without conflict. New era of peace dawns.
Day 2: First Nations realize that they can invade everywhere else. Invaded nations powerless to resist. North Korea invades South Korea , China takes India, Europe carved up between Russia and surprisingly Wales.
Day 3: Everyone else tries to counter invade. Can’t use violence. Rival troops just jostle each other.
Day 4: 400,000 dead in slow agonizing jostling clashes worldwide. Worst week in history agrees everyone. Why oh, why is this happening asks many.
Woman: OK, OK, I’ll take the car.
Genie: Too late. ↩︎