“You Either Have It or You Don’t” Is Terrible Career Advice
Early in my career, I heard a version of the same message many young lawyers hear.
“You either have it, or you don’t.”
It was usually said about writing.
If your writing wasn’t sharp enough, polished enough, effortless enough — the implication was clear. Some people just have the gift. Others don’t.
That kind of advice sounds confident. It sounds elite.
It’s also deeply wrong.
And in today’s world, it’s becoming outdated.
The Fear No One Talks About
A lot of young lawyers sit quietly with the same fear:
“What if I just don’t have it?”
When someone in power says writing can’t be taught, feedback starts to feel like a verdict. Not guidance. Not coaching. A verdict.
You either belong here — or you don’t.
That belief stops growth before it starts.
Skill is not a verdict. It’s a practice.
And writing is not just about sentences.
It’s about judgment and emotional intelligence showing up on the page.
What Writing Actually Is
For a long time, strong writing was treated as proof of deeper talent.
Clean analysis. Polished memos. Sharp briefs.
That made sense when writing was hard to scale.
But today, almost anyone can produce clear prose with the help of AI. Structure can be generated. Grammar can be corrected. Sentences can be tightened.
So what does writing actually signal now?
Not just how well you form sentences.
But how well you think before you write.
Writing is visible.
Judgment shapes what gets written.
Emotional intelligence determines how it will be received.
That’s the real shift.
A Lesson I Learned the Hard Way
I once worked on a case where a partner drafted a brief that was scathing toward the other side. It was sharp. It was aggressive. It was technically strong.
But during oral argument, something shifted.
The judge did not appreciate the tone. The questions turned pointed. The mood changed. What looked strong on paper suddenly felt miscalculated in the room.
That wasn’t a writing problem.
It was a judgment problem.
It required understanding the audience. The judge. The moment. The tone that would persuade instead of irritate.
The same principle applies outside of litigation.
When you draft a sensitive email to a client delivering bad news.
When you write a board memo about risk.
When you advise HR about discipline.
It’s not just about being correct.
It’s about understanding how your words will land.
That’s emotional intelligence woven into writing.
Speed Is Not Skill
There’s another pressure young lawyers feel today.
Speed.
AI makes research faster. Drafting faster. Summaries instant.
But the danger isn’t that AI makes writing easier.
The danger is that speed becomes the goal.
Skill grows in revision.
Judgment grows in pause.
The best lawyers I’ve seen slow down at the right moments. They ask:
Is this the right tone?
Is this the right frame?
Is this the right time to say this?
That kind of thinking doesn’t happen on autopilot.
And if tools do too much of the thinking for us, judgment doesn’t disappear — it weakens from disuse.
You Don’t Need Privilege to Build This
I grew up in a refugee household. My parents had no more than a middle school education. English was not their first language.
There was no uncle who was a lawyer. No built-in writing coach. No family friend reviewing my drafts.
I learned by doing. By getting things wrong. By reading feedback carefully. By rewriting.
That’s why I care about pushing back on the idea that skill is innate.
Today, something is different.
You don’t need access to a $400-an-hour writing tutor. You don’t need a family member in the profession.
You have tools.
AI can act as a writing coach. It can critique clarity. It can point out logical gaps. It can ask you questions about structure. It can help you test tone.
But here’s the key:
You must interrogate it back.
Ask it:
Where is this argument weak?
Is this too harsh?
How might a skeptical reader react?
What am I assuming that isn’t stated?
That’s where growth happens.
Not in copying what it generates.
But in using it to sharpen how you think.
The Real Skill
The old way of spotting talent relied on signals that were easy to see.
Polished prose. Fast drafts. Confident tone.
Those signals are flattening.
What’s surfacing instead is something deeper.
Can you read the room?
Can you adjust tone to audience?
Can you anticipate reaction?
Can you decide what not to say?
Emotional intelligence is not a substitute for judgment.
It’s the lens that determines whether judgment actually works in the real world.
A technically correct answer delivered at the wrong moment can fail.
A measured, thoughtful recommendation delivered with awareness can move mountains.
The Career Advice I Wish More People Gave
Instead of saying “You either have it or you don’t,” we should be saying:
You build it.
You build it by rewriting.
You build it by listening.
You build it by noticing reactions.
You build it by making mistakes and adjusting.
No one is born knowing how to draft a persuasive memo, read a judge, calm a client, or frame risk for a board.
Those are learned skills.
And now, with AI as a support tool rather than a crutch, access to improvement has never been broader.
But tools don’t replace effort.
They amplify it.
The Real Shift
The real shift isn’t whether AI replaces lawyers.
It’s that AI removes old signals — like writing alone — and forces new ones to the surface.
The lawyers who will stand out are not the fastest drafters.
They are the ones whose writing reflects thought.
Whose tone reflects awareness.
Whose advice reflects judgment.
The ones whose decisions others trust — because they fit the moment, the people, and the reality in front of them.
That’s not something you either have or don’t.
It’s something you practice.
And the lawyers who understand that will keep getting better long after the sentences are polished.
Disclaimer:
This article is for general informational purposes only and does not constitute legal advice. Legal outcomes depend on specific facts, procedural posture, and evolving case law. Employers should consult experienced counsel regarding their particular circumstances.
