About a month ago, a friend of mine made a beautiful and thoughtful post about body image, detailing parts of her recovery from an eating disorder. I wrote a decently long comment, and in the process, realized my perspective on body image is drastically different from what it once was. As I continued to compose my response, I understood why. It’s because I’m a writer. Words have helped guide me toward a healthy self-image more than anything else over the past seven years.

Let me explain.

First of all, I have never been at a proportionate weight for my height or body type, and it’s because I consume more calories than I burn, nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve always grasped that it’s my own responsibility, and it has never bothered me too drastically. I avoid large amounts of sugary food, and I try to take a walk every day. So far, it has been enough, and I am a fairly healthy individual.

Now the perspective bit. Before I started writing at age thirteen, the body image thing was way more of an issue for me. I thought about it perpetually, compared myself to everyone I met and allowed it to overwhelm me now and again. As I expanded my circle of acquaintances and met thinner, more attractive girls than myself, I had to work hard to keep from self-depreciating comparisons.

Then came eighth grade, and with it, a laptop. My first laptop, as it was, and one which came pre-installed with Microsoft Word. As an avid reader, writing seemed only natural. Within a year, it all spiraled out of control—now I write three novels a year, possess a writing degree and have officially begun freelancing. I’m all-in now.

Anyway, the point is that over those years of writing and studying the craft, I learned more about body image than from anywhere else over the course of my life.

Here’s why: when you first start writing, you focus on character appearance. She was tall and skinny, with long, flowing blonde hair and a pair sparkling, tourmaline eyes. Her teeth were white as pearls and when she smiled, her lips curved ever-so-slightly at the corners. A pink blush adorned her pale cheeks.

Eh. Nothing wrong with that, in its own right, but what does it really tell us about the character? Not much. We know what she looks like, sure, but we don’t know her. Let’s try again, but leave out all details about her appearance completely:

She couldn’t be in windowless rooms for long. Classes in Room 140 were the hardest, since it was underground. She spent all fifty minutes fidgeting, twirling her pencil, bouncing her leg. The second the professor switched off the screen, she was already running for the door, backpack sliding off her shoulder as she jogged up the stairs. Once there, she burst through the glass door and into the weather—pouring rain, blistering sun, it didn’t matter. She sucked in a breath, gave a shudder, and made her slow way back to the dorm.

Much better. This should make the reader curious. What’s wrong with windowless rooms? Did something happen to make her this way? Is she anticipating something? Notice there is no focus on what she looks like. There’s no need. We’re developing a story.

Real life is no different. When you make a new friend, you aren’t focused on the other person’s appearance. You want to learn about your mutual interests and connections. You ask about their hobbies, family life, favorite foods, pets, hometown and what they want to do with their life. If you only ask questions like ‘what color would you describe your hair as?’ the other person probably won’t hang around very long.

When I truly started caring about my future as a writer, I stopped looking at people for their appearance. Young Writer Me focused on comparing eye color to gemstones and hair color to sunlight. Older Writer Me watches the way someone adjusts their glasses. I analyze how tense someone’s shoulders get as they near their professor’s office, or how someone’s whole body language springs to life when they see a puppy. I notice how some people tie their sneakers every time, and others just slip them on and off without bothering. I watch people twist their earrings when addressing a crush, or how they hover their hand over the ranch dressing ladle before sighing and moving to Italian.

These tell me more about people than hair color and body type ever will. It’s not about your body. It’s about the spirit that inhabits it.

As humans, we gravitate to stories. The details of our personality and our actions determine those stories and create the most engaging parts of reading. When I responded to my friend’s post, I understood that writing had altered the way I think. People are not just their appearances. They are awkward, emotional, driven and talented individuals with a million ways to describe them other than how they look.