5 Things I've Learned About Building a Writing Habit
How I Became a Person who Writes Every Day.
Every writer is different, and we all come to the task of writing for different reasons.
For instance, a whole lot of folks in this fiction/spec-fic space grew up knowing they wanted to be a storyteller. These are people with childhood notebooks full of stories, an online presence full of fanfic, and creative writing classes they took in high school and college… all to chase that long-shot dream of being the next great fantasy author.
Then there’s people like me who did absolutely none of that.
I came to writing by another road.
I didn’t even read Lord of the Rings until I was in my twenties, when I came across the Fellowship of the Ring in the stacks of my university library and—recently freed from the weight of my undergrad thesis—I decided to sit on the grass and procrastinate on my remaining coursework. (No, reading LoTR as an adult wasn’t my first intro to fantasy, or even Tolkien. Far from it. But looking back, that moment in the stacks when I chose to chase that chance encounter with beauty turned out to be a turning point in my life. A stream on a mountainside that became a torrent by the time it reached the valley floor…)
By the time I eventually decided I’d try writing some fantasy of my own, I was already heavily invested in my career. I was (and am) a cubicle-dweller, and a 30-year mortgage loomed in my near future.
But I’m not here to talk about “my writing journey.” Suffice it to say: by the time I decided I was going to try and write a Big Fat Epic Fantasy Book (or maybe a few dozen of them), I was well past the point in my life where I had the freedom to just let my creativity guide me.
There were too many demands on my time—good demands like “put bread on the table” and “teach my kid to somersault,” but demands nonetheless.
I couldn’t rely on that elusive thing called “inspiration” or “being in the mood” to work on my passion project. I couldn’t even rely on the fanciful idea of “free time.”
I needed discipline.
If I want my projects to ever become real, if I ever want to hold them in a book with these mortal hands, then I need a habit. I needed writing to become part of my life so that when I lacked it, I felt its withdrawal.
Now, a few years on, I can safely say I’ve built the habit. I fit some good prose writing in nearly every day, though of course not every day is equally productive.
In that time, I’ve cranked out a few “trunk novel” sort of projects, now blessedly locked away where no one can find them. The project I’m working on now is one I truly think can succeed.
But only if I keep up my habit.
So I wanted to share five things about how I got myself here into the habit, for all those people like me who need discipline to make their stories a reality.
“But Find What Works For You”
First, a caveat. Any decent writing advice ends with the phrase “but find what works best for you.” Finding “what works for you” is very important, because every single writer is different.
“Find what works for you” is a common piece of writerly advice that applies to absolutely everyone and is helpful to absolutely no one.
If I’m going to be any use to you, I have to be specific. But know that when I say “you need to XYZ,” … you don’t need to. But you might need to, if you’re like me.
This is just what I’ve learned the hard way, so now you get to learn the less-hard way.
Let’s go.
1. A Habit Begs For a Goal
The transformation from “not doing a thing regularly” to “doing that thing so regularly it’s second nature” is not a smooth one. Nor is it, I think, a transformation that happens for its own sake.
Only masochists decide to do cardio every day, but a slightly-less masochistic person might decide to run a marathon and end up doing cardio every day.
Same with writing. Most of us write every day (or want to write every day), but even the smallest bits of writing have some purpose once you zoom in.
We can’t just vomit random words onto a page. We need to write so that we can tell that story that’s in our heads, or we can satisfy that flash-fiction prompt, or we can get something published down the line…
If you’re looking to build a habit, set a goal that requires a habit.
You need a long-term goal, and must be measurable in three specific ways:
What you want to accomplish. You must make this so obviously clear that a random stranger could tell you whether you succeeded or failed. Think “write this specific story” instead of “work on writer stuff.”
By When. Give yourself a deadline. Habits take time. Think “months” not “weeks.”
What You’ll Need Every Day/Week To Do It. This is for accountability.
Ask yourself: What do I want to have accomplished six months from now? A year from now?
Then ask: What would it take to accomplish that goal?
Setting a good goal—and corresponding expectations based on that goal—will take time and thought. But here are some suggestions:
Spend a half-hour (or 15 mins) writing on at least 270 days a year (so roughly ¾ of the year’s days)
Write 1,000 words (or 100 words) of your story every day
Do a prompt every week or a micro-fiction prompt every day (check out The Fiction Dealer for instance).
Those are pretty direct goals, a bit like “do cardio every day.” It works for some people, but not me. I needed a more indirect, “run a marathon” goal, like:
Finish a specific novel by a certain date.
Finish a short story every two weeks.
Write 60,000 words of prose by your next birthday, or by this time next year
More recently, I set myself the goal of finishing my yet-untitled novel before the deadline of October 12. That means I need at least 500 words a day, assuming I don’t fall behind…
2. Accountability is Key
Once you have your goal, you should build some sort of accountability into your workflow. This can take all sorts of forms, and it could be either self-enforced or community-enforced. Preferably both!
For me, I set up a Daily Word Count Tracker spreadsheet, because I’m not just a fantasy nerd, I’m a nerd nerd. But my spreadsheet had my deadline, my wordcount goal, the number of days I’ve written prose, or just outlined, or done nothing, and it even gives me a “Words Needed Per Day” metric that updates automatically with my own falling-behind or getting-ahead. I’ve made different versions for different projects, goals, and timelines, but I always have one going.
I try to start my writing sprints by tallying up my wordcount from yesterday and entering into the tracker.
This is my “self-enforced” accountability.
In addition to this, I have writing friends. I’m grateful to have a few like-minded creatives in my circle; talking about “book stuff” is an excuse to stay in touch, and staying in touch is a positive feedback loop for staying on target. Monthly writing-swaps help motivate us to impress each other with the quality and quantity of our writing. A bit of community goes a long way.
This is my “community-enforced” accountability.
Perhaps that’s too strong a phrase though, because community accountability should be soft and friendly. Don’t put penalties into it. Keep it fun. Fun keeps it alive.
I don’t think any of us will be able to build or strengthen the writing habit unless we want it for ourselves. But simultaneously, I don’t think any of us can go it totally alone.
After all, writing is a very solitary activity, but its also one that is ultimately for other people.
So you have to do it on your own. Together.
3. There’s Nothing to Fear but the Blank Page
There’s a whole debate among writers (what else is new?) about whether its better to “draft fast and then edit” or just “make it good the first time”. But no matter what your philosophy about drafting is every piece of writing needs to have a first draft.
There’s nothing for it. You gotta get it out on the page. If you don’t, it won’t exist.
That draft might be bad. It probably will be bad. But bad is better than nothing, because Bad can become Good.
The hard part is turning the Nothing into the Something.
For me, if I can write 500 words in a day, then usually my wordcount for that day will only be hindered by time. Getting from five-hundred to one-thousand isn’t that hard, or a thousand to fifteen hundred. The hard part is turning the zero into a one.
At 500 words there’s this tipping point, and then things just go and go and go. But getting those first 500 words out are brutal.
So, when your goal feels so far out of reach that you don’t even see the point in trying… when you haven’t written in two weeks and you feel guilty for letting yourself down… when you look at what you’ve written and it looks like a pile of dog turds…
Take a deep breath.
Repeat after me: the first draft is just to make it exist.
And: There’s nothing to fear but the blank page.
4. Momentum Matters
Here’s an obvious statement: habits are hard to build. (ah jeez thanks, Eric, hadn’t thought of that). But the inverse is also true: habits are hard to break.
You’ll know this already if you’ve tried to kick a bad habit. You will want to keep doing whatever you’re already doing, whether that’s writing like a lunatic or avoiding it like a root canal. Hence the advice to “fear the blank page and only the blank page”
If you can write N>0 words for seven days, by the end of the week you’ll feel like something is missing if you don’t write. I’m not saying “congrats, you now have achieved HABIT,” but that momentum matters.
Inertia can become your superpower. Not only will it become easier to write, but recognizing your momentum will motivate you to not lose it.
This compels me out of complacency. Sure, I’m five days ahead of schedule right now, but do you realize how easy it is to fall five days behind? I slack off today and suddenly two weeks have gone by! I know because it's happened! More than once! I better get eight days ahead, no, now ten, now twenty, etc.
This is also why I recommend you do “daily” goal setting as a part of a long-term strategy. It’s all because it doesn’t matter right now in this moment if you’re ahead or behind: what matters in the moment is doing something today, or else you might do nothing tomorrow.
5. Consider the Inopportune Moments.
You probably already know what an ideal writing environment looks like for you. And you probably know that daily life ain’t like that.
Instead of relying on being able to retreat to your writing nook, make the whole world your writing nook. You might be surprised at the kinds of physical spaces you’ll be able to write in if you try.
Half the battle is being ready to try.
Spend some considering how you can optimize your existing routines to set yourself up to write during both opportune and inopportune moments.
I encourage you to answer the following:
What opportunities do you have to write every day, assuming you change as little as possible about your responsibilities and routines?
What can you do to help yourself write during those moments?
The second half of that first question is really vital here. We’re looking for those moments where it would be really hard to write, but it might be the best chance you get.
Walking the dog? Consider dictating into an audio file (don’t worry, you’ll only look half crazy, since some people will think you’re on the phone).
Going to the Doctor? Bring a notepad to write in the waiting room. How nineteenth century of you!
Your coworkers are late for this remote meeting? Get last night’s idea out of your head and into an email to one of your writing friends.
On the toilet? You’re probably on your phone anyway. Get over yourself and write while you poop.
Nursing a baby? Stuck in a useless two-hour zoom call? Insomnia? Procrastinating on doing the dishes? Idling in a school pick-up line? Find a way to write.
Will it always work? No. None of these opportunities are remotely ideal for writing. Recognize that, and try anyway.
In order to say yes to my our writing, we have to say no to other things.
It might mean turning off the music in the car, deleting some apps from your phone, carrying a pen and journal with you like some pre-smartphone lunatic… but you can choose those things.
It’s easy to pass time with a podcast because your phone makes it easy to choose that. How can you make it easy to choose writing instead?
And the more you try to catch those poorly optimized opportunities, the more your creativity will be buzzing like a geyser under the surface…
…so that later on, when the house is quiet, you can slip on your noise-canceling headphones, turn on your writing mood playlist, open up your word doc, and start to dive in… once you get to your ideal environment, you’ll feel like a sultan in a palace, and you’ll be ready to let fly.
Symbiosis of the Five
All of these five things work together. Here’s an example.
I’ve grown to hate putting those Zero Days into my tracker (#2, Accountability). I’ve had a load of Zero Days, and I’m far from perfect now. But man, it just stings. There have been times I’ll be brushing my teeth before bed just thinking about that zero… I don’t want to lose momentum (#4), I don’t want to fall behind in my own goals (#1), so I’ll try to spit out a hundred-ish words into my phone before I lay down.
Those late-night spurts are not good quality, but (#3, Nothing to Fear but the blank page) they are far better than nothing. And often enough that little spurt gives me ideas for tomorrow, or helps me diagnose a problem with a scene. Messy as those moments are (#5 Consider the Inopportune Moments) they set me up for success when I sit down later, better prepared.
I’ve gone on too long, this post had way more scatology than I expected, and I still need to hit my 500 today.
So I hope this helps. But go find what works for you.
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I'm also in the 500-word-per-day club! This was an experiment I just started this year, and it's working well so far. It doesn't feel like too much, so it doesn't scare me off, but 500 words often turn into more. I still haven't gotten the inopportune moments thing working yet, but that's a great tip. I did load the writing app I'm using onto my phone, though, so at least the will is there! Awesome post, by the way.
Sounds like you figured out a good routine and habit for yourself and a way to implement it. That's what I've been working on. A routine to turn into a habit that I can implement in a consistent manner. Which is so hard. Doubly-so when you're dealing with a chronic illness on top of life.
But you might need to, if you’re like me. << This here is something I rarely see mentioned in advice pieces. It's like there's an assumption that everyone will succeed because this person spouting the advice did through their methods. They forget that we are all different and if someone has a different personality than the advice giver does, then their techniques probably won't work for that person. It's like trying to force an introvert to turn into an extrovert and visa versa.
I'd add to your bit on inopportune moments that you are not trying to crank out 1000 words in those moments and more like a couple sentences for the current scene you are on. It's more tiny cliff notes that you will flesh out once you sit down at the computer. And it's funny. I've heard that advice before, but something about the way you worded it clicked for me in a way it hasn't before.