As a writer you must care deeply about words. It is a good idea to dedicate some of your time to read quality literature every day. Make a habit of what is being written today and what was written by earlier masters. When you read their writings, go really slow. Notice the decisions that other writers make in their choice of words and be finicky about the ones you select for your writing. Remember: writing is learned by imitation.

Also, get in the habit of using dictionaries. If you have any doubt of what a word means, look it up. Learn its etymology and notice what curious branches its original root has put forth. See if it has any meanings you didn’t know it had. Master the small gradations between words that seem to be synonyms. What’s the difference between “cajole,” “wheedle,” “blandish,” and “coax”? Get yourself a dictionary of synonyms.

While writing, bear in mind , when you’re choosing words and stringing them together, how they sound. It is true that readers read with their eyes, but it is also true that they hear what they are reading far more than you realise. Therefore such matters as rhythm and alliteration are vital to every sentence.

Art: A Wheatfield with Cypresses, by Vincent van Gogh

E. B. White makes the case cogently in The Elements of Style, a book every writer should read once a year, when he suggests trying to rearrange any phrase that has survived for a century or two, such as Thomas Paine’s “These are the times that try men’s souls”:

Times like these try men's souls.
How trying it is to live in these times!
These are trying times for men's souls.
Soulwise, these are trying times.

Paine’s phrase is like poetry and the other four are like oatmeal — which is the divine mystery of the creative process. Good writers of prose must be part poet, always listening to what they write. Every little word matters. It’s the difference between, say, “serene” and “tranquil” — one so soft, the other strangely disturbing because of the unusual n and q.

Such considerations of sound and rhythm should go into everything you write. If all your sentences move at the same plodding gait, which even you recognise as deadly but don’t know how to cure, read them aloud. You’ll begin to hear where the trouble lies. See if you can gain variety by reversing the order of a sentence, or by substituting a word that has freshness or oddity, or by altering the length of your sentences so they don’t all sound as if they came out of the same machine. An occasional short sentence can carry a tremendous punch. It stays in the reader’s ear.

Remember that words are the only tools you’ve got. Learn to use them with originality and care. And also remember: somebody out there is listening.