If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Often people ask me what are the best writing books. Most are starting out as writers, others returning to the craft after a decade or two furlough. They want to bone up on the rules from the experts then hit the ground running. I admire them for wanting to dig in and improve themselves. I did the same thing the first few years I returned to writing back in the 90s. Hungry for all the right tools, I built an instant library and carried one of the books everywhere I went, studying during patches of time throughout the day.
Other than the works by Anne Lamott and Stephen King, however, the material for the most part seemed too . . . academic, instructive, informative . . . oh what's the word . . . not creative. Surprising considering writers are right brain folks. Something was missing.
The gut-burning, anxious eagerness to put pen to paper was missing. Don't do this . . . don't do that. Make sure you do this. . . and do that. This person knows best . . . that person knows best. But most of the books never made me want to leap into the profession and run with it!
In reality, it takes that leaping and running, and subsequent stumbling, to get your footing. You need to write crap and throw it away. Then write more crap. Untethered, unreined, I wanted my mind to fly.
I think that's why I no longer read how-to-write books. They are good to start, but sooner or later you have to drop those anchors and leave the ground, flying with the power of your own wings.