How many notes did you take today?
Phone memos, note apps, sticky notes.
Jot it down the moment it hits you.
That's what "productive people" do — or so you've read somewhere, right?
I used to believe that too.
But one of the greatest literary geniuses of 20th-century America did the exact opposite.
Truman Capote.
The author of Breakfast at Tiffany's and the groundbreaking nonfiction novel In Cold Blood.
His prose was polished sentence by sentence, like music — earning him the reputation as "one of the most beautiful prose stylists in American literature."
And Capote's approach to writing flips everything we think we know on its head.
Today, I want to share three lessons from this genius's method that we can actually use.
The Courage Not to Take Notes
Capote reportedly never wrote down rough plot outlines in his notebooks.
Why? Here's what he said:
"At one time I used to keep notebooks with outlines for stories. But I found doing this somehow deadened the idea in my imagination. If the notion is good enough, if it truly belongs to you, then you can't forget it — it will haunt you till it's written."
What a thing to say.
The ideas that stick in your mind without being written down — those are the ones worth writing.
In my previous article about Capote's input methods, I touched on how he avoided note-taking during interviews too.
Capote never took notes during interviews. No tape recorder either.
"Notes and recorders create a wall between you and the other person. The natural flow of conversation breaks down."
That's what he believed. So how did he capture information?
After each interview, he would write everything down from memory.
In fact, the Library of Congress holds an enormous collection of Capote's handwritten notebooks from his research for In Cold Blood — observation notes, question lists for investigators, even sketches of the Clutter family's furniture layout.
In other words, he didn't "never take notes." He just never took them in the moment.
There's a useful lesson here for all of us.
Separate the moment of input from the moment of recording.
For example, stop highlighting everything while reading a book. Read a full chapter first, then write down only what you remember. Instead of frantically scribbling during a seminar, spend just 15 minutes reflecting afterward.
Only information intense enough to survive in your memory becomes part of you.
Try to record everything, and nothing sticks.
Work Backward from the Goal
"I was halfway through writing, but I lost track of where I was heading..."
If you write, you've probably experienced this at least once.
Capote's solution was simple.
Write the ending first.
He would decide on the final scene — the final sentence — before writing anything else. Once the destination was clear, the episodes and foreshadowing along the way naturally fell into place.
This isn't limited to fiction.
Blog posts, articles, presentations — the same principle applies. Ask yourself: "How do I want the reader to feel when they finish?" Decide that first.
For instance, when I started writing this article, the first thing I decided was: "I want the reader to think, 'I'll change just one thing about how I write today.'"
Once the goal is set, the path reveals itself.
When you're stuck, try writing the last sentence first. You'll be amazed at how the words start flowing.
The Ritual of Rewriting Three Times
Capote's revision process followed the same pattern every single time.
First draft: handwritten in pencil
Second draft: complete rewrite, also by hand
Third draft: typed on a typewriter, with further revisions
At least three rounds. Each time, practically starting from scratch.
Here's what Capote said:
"I think of myself as a stylist, and stylists can become notoriously obsessed with the placing of a comma, the weight of a semicolon. Obsessions of this sort, and the time I spend on them, are the burden of my creative life."
(The Paris Review interview, 1957)
The placing of a comma.
The "weight" of a semicolon.
That level of obsession is what produced his crystalline prose.
What I want you to notice here is the switch in medium. From pencil to typewriter. When you change tools, something curious happens — your perspective shifts.
Even though it's your own writing, you suddenly read it as if someone else wrote it.
Here's how we can apply this:
Change your environment between writing and editing.
If you wrote on a laptop, proofread on your phone.
If you wrote at home, revise at a café.
Even changing the font helps.
Make "the writer" and "the editor" two different people. That alone will dramatically improve the quality of your writing.
The One Change That Transforms Your Output
You don't need to copy everything Capote did. Mimicking a genius's habits probably won't work anyway.
But just one thing.
There must be something you can try starting today.
Before reaching for your notes, spend 5 minutes turning the idea over in your mind.
Before you start writing, decide on the last sentence first.
After you finish writing, reread it on a different device.
Just pick one.
Capote said, "Writing is the art of complete control."
But here's what I think: Control isn't talent. It's a system.
Add just one system to your writing process. That's the first step toward transforming your output tomorrow.