The “one-use” method

For master cooks (and writers)

I SAID TO MY GIRLFRIEND, "Babe, I'm gonna ask you something. Don't think about it. Just gimme your first answer. I've been given a writing prompt designed to inspire a new essay. It’s: What would you say is a rule I live by?"

Without hesitation she said, "Cleanliness is above godliness” and she put a little emphasis on the word “above.”

She’s right. I don’t believe in gods but I do put my faith in tidiness. My kind of heaven. And clutter? And mess? Well that’s just my kind of hell.

So, the stage was set: write an essay (this essay) about cleanliness.

And because I write for writers and artists, I wanted it to be useful to writers and artists as well.

I was thinking: where am I most proficient at being clean and tidy, such that I might be able to teach something about it? The answer is: in the kitchen. I love to cook. And I love to clean. And one of my favourite things to do is clean-as-I-go. That’s the sign of a good cook by the way. They can put good food on the table and keep the kitchen clean in the process. I can do that. And I’m a little bit proud of it. But it’s taken me years. And when I thought about how I do it, I realised there is a principle I’ve tried to follow—a method somebody taught me once, I can’t remember who—that makes cleaning-as-I-go easy-peasy.

And what’s cool is, I actually think you can use this same method to become a better writer, which I’ll get to in a sec.

If I had to name it, I’d call this method the “one-use” method. It’s a simple premise: when I need to use something like an appliance or a tool, I try and use it only once. So, when I’m peeling potatoes, for example, I take out the peeler, peel with it, clean it, dry it and put it back—all in the same move.

It sounds fussy but it isn’t. It’s just methodical. You do it enough and it becomes second nature.

And the compounding effect is amazing. The kitchen stays looking like a goddamn temple. I’m scoring mad brownie points with my girlfriend and guests. And I don’t have to wash anything up when I’m bursting at the seams and it's late and I'm tired.

But there’s more. Think about it. When you know you’re only gonna use something once, you make damn sure you get the most out of it. You think about when best to use it. You think about how best to use it. And the pressure of knowing you ain’t gonna get another shot? Well that does something to you. Makes you perform. Raises the stakes.

And let me tell you, it gives you momentum too. Got a deadline? Cooking in a hurry? Then the one-use method is perfect. Because you do the job, you move forward and you don’t turn back—and there’s confidence and a lot of satisfaction in that.

So anyway, how can we get a bit of this one-use magic in our writing practice?

Firstly, in the editing. When I'm looking at a draft with my editor hat on, there’s a lot of different criteria sloshing around in my brain—”Where’s the personality? Where’s the real-world detail? What’s funny? What’s dull? What’s confusing? Where’s the worn-out phrase that needs to be pruned?”—and my brain’s looking for it all in the same reading, or it’s trying to. But that’s ridiculous! It’s like a chef trying to cook a three-course banquet in one pot at the same time whilst holding three frying pans, a bread basket, a fish slice and a mandoline. I don’t fancy tasting that meal. Do you?

So instead, wouldn’t it be smarter to use things once? To read through a draft using one “lens” at a time?

First reading: does anything need adding?

Second reading: does anything need deleting?

Next: what needs substituting? Moving? More clarity? Less cliché?

I can hear you stressing: “That’ll take forever!” But it doesn’t, because you can read fast when you’re only looking for one thing. And since you’re only using each lens once, your brain makes goddamn sure it does a tip-top job first-time around.

If you’re editing with the one-use method, then giving feedback’s a joy. A tidy, time-bound, focused kinda joy. And if you’re writing, then receiving feedback’s a “holy shit this is the most actionable goddamn feedback I ever got” kinda joy. Ay-fuckin-men.

I can still hear you nit-pickers out there, "Hang on a minute! What happened to the potatoes? Didn't you use them more than once?" And yes, you got me there, smart arses. This ain’t watertight. And I ain't no preacher. But come on, gimme a break. I’m giving you gems here.

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Another idea you might like: Writers wanna stand out so they can fit in →

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Thanks to Becky at

Beck At It

, Meryl at

Meryl’s Substack

and Mohammad at

Mohammad Khan's Newsletter

for reading drafts of this.