Famous Writing Habits: Hemingway Wrote Standing Up and Orwell Reduced Language to Essentials

Hemingway wrote standing up. So do I.

Ernest Hemingway was famous for writing standing up. He worked at a tall desk, often placing a typewriter on top of a bookcase so he could compose on his feet. He believed standing sharpened his concentration and kept the writing physical, almost like a form of movement.

There is something appealingly practical about this habit. Writing becomes less of a sedentary ritual and more of an act of engagement with the page.

I find myself doing the same thing, though in a modern way. When I write on my phone, I almost always stand. Something about being upright changes the rhythm of the work. Sentences feel quicker, more direct. There is less temptation to linger.

Perhaps it is coincidence. Or perhaps posture changes the mind as much as the body.

Hemingway wrote standing up.

So do I.

Orwell reduced language to essentials. So do I.

George Orwell had a ruthless relationship with language. He believed most writing failed because it used too many words rather than too few.

His famous rules for writing all push in the same direction: remove the unnecessary, strip away ornament, and say exactly what you mean.

Orwell’s discipline is harder than it sounds. Reducing language to its essentials requires constant vigilance. Every sentence must be questioned. Every word must justify its presence.

I try to work in the same spirit. Whenever possible, I reduce language to its core meaning. It is a discipline I continually wrestle with. The instinct to explain, expand, and embellish is always waiting.

Good writing, however, often lives in the opposite direction.

Orwell reduced language to essentials.

So do I.His famous rules for writing all push in the same direction: remove the unnecessary, strip away ornament, and say exactly what you mean.

Orwell’s discipline is harder than it sounds. Reducing language to its essentials requires constant vigilance. Every sentence must be questioned. Every word must justify its presence.

I try to work in the same spirit. Whenever possible, I reduce language to its core meaning. It is a discipline I continually wrestle with. The instinct to explain, expand, and embellish is always waiting. I try not to let it win!

Good writing, however, often lives in the opposite direction.

Orwell reduced language to essentials.

So do I.

Do you recognise yourself in either of them — standing to sharpen the mind like Hemingway, cutting language back to its essentials like Orwell — or perhaps, like me, a little of both?

This article is part of the Writer Habits series exploring how great authors worked — and the small disciplines modern writers still practice today.

At Home with Austen, On Foot with Dickens.

If you enjoy these small writerly truths, you might also enjoy the minimalist designs in my writer merch store — a growing collection inspired by the habits, struggles, and quiet disciplines of the writing life.

See them here: PKDWriterMerch