Write Things: On What You Leave Out

Hello writers,

One of the most powerful ways to elevate your writing isn’t about adding more explanation, more description, or more certainty to the page.

It’s about learning when to leave space.

Many writers instinctively try to protect the reader by filling in every gap—explaining motivations, clarifying emotions, answering questions before they’ve had time to form. But engagement doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from invitation.

When you leave something out, you invite the reader to step in.

TECHNIQUE SHIFT: The Power of Restraint

Restraint creates anticipation.
When a moment isn’t fully explained, the reader begins to wonder. They speculate. They lean forward. They start participating in the story rather than passively receiving it.

That wondering isn’t confusion—it’s engagement.

Restraint builds trust.
Used intentionally, leaving space signals confidence. You’re telling the reader, I know where this is going, and I’ll meet you there. Each time you eventually develop an answer—through action, consequence, or revelation—you reinforce that trust and encourage the reader to stay with you through uncertainty.

Restraint requires balance.
Too much space and the reader feels lost.
Too little and there’s nothing to lean toward.

And here’s the part many writers miss:
you don’t learn that balance in isolation.

On your own, it’s difficult to tell whether you’ve created intrigue or confusion—whether you’ve left the right amount of space or simply left something unclear. Sharing your writing and receiving thoughtful feedback is how that distinction becomes clear.

Good readers can tell you when they’re leaning in… and when they’ve lost the thread. That feedback teaches you how much to hold back, when to reveal, and how to guide the reader without over-explaining.

The goal isn’t mystery for mystery’s sake.
It’s intrigue with direction.

When used well, what you leave out becomes an invitation—to anticipate, to speculate, and to fill the story with the reader’s own wonderings. And learning to strike that balance is part of how writers build trust not only with their readers, but with themselves.

Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum for very long.

At some point, most writers feel the pull to share their work—not for validation, but to understand how their words actually land. To see what readers anticipate, where they lean in, and where something gets lost. That kind of insight doesn’t come from thinking harder or waiting longer. It comes from connection.

The same is true with other writers.

Some writers wait for time.
Others decide their writing matters enough to protect it.

Neither is better. They’re simply different choices.

Connecting with readers and writers doesn’t make you write.
It makes it harder to avoid what matters to you.

If you’ve been writing mostly alone, or telling yourself you’ll share “once it’s ready,” it might be worth noticing what that’s been like—and whether it’s actually supporting the writer you want to be.

If you’re curious about what it might look like to write alongside others, receive thoughtful feedback, and learn how your choices are experienced by real readers, I’m currently registering for 4-week online writing groups starting the week of January 19th.

They’re small (6 writers each), online, and designed to support consistent writing, meaningful connection, and learning through shared experience.

If you have questions about the groups, you’re welcome to reply to this email. I’m happy to talk it through with you.

You can learn more and register here.

Wishing you and your stories all the best,
Trevor Martens
Founder, I Help You Write Things

P.S. Something powerful happens when writers who care about their work spend time together. Attention sharpens. Confidence grows. If you’re looking for a place to begin that kind of connection, these writing groups are a good place to start.