I write every day. 

This is a big improvement for me. In the past, I’d try to write everyday, but the words wouldn’t end up on the page. When I thought about writing, it felt big. Like an overdue errand, or kicking off a workout. Even when I was in my chair staring at the computer, my fingers wouldn’t tap on the keys. It was stressful work, and all that stress wasn’t even producing any words.

Three changes made all the difference. The brain didn’t want to write, so I figured out how to change its mind.

Pen and Paper

I used to prewrite on a computer. I’d sit down, let my mind wander, and type out every idea that came to my head. The funny thing was, I’d end up with three pages of pre-written dialog, plot points, and outline. But the moment I started writing for real, it all went out the window. The thinking I had done hadn’t stuck.

There is something fundamental about scrawling words onto a page. Even with my terrible handwriting, I can feel it in my head. You can’t just think of an idea and tip-tap the words with paper. Your brain has to take an idea, turn it into a few words, and convert that into muscle-movements. As the ink goes on the paper, the idea takes on a bigger meaning. Here’s a study confirming it.

When you sit down to write, start with pen and paper.

Nothing real, nothing committal. Just loose ideas, whatever comes to mind, an outline that keeps your brain thinking. My poor pre-writing pages are a junkyard of random notes, doodles, and aggressively circled sentences.

I’ve always found the first real sentence to be the scariest. It was like I had dragged my brain out of a sunny park, into a theater spotlight, and yelled “Perform!” from offstage. But for some reason, ever since I started using a pen and paper, my mind always finds its mark. 

Scheduled Time

My writing used to be inspired. By which I mean I’d wait until motivation struck, then charge into my writer’s room and ride that initial surge of inspiration for all it was worth. Now I’m writing 100,000 word novels and the artist’s inspiration doesn’t visit so often.

I’d always tell myself I was going to start at the bottom of the hour, then it’d be 3:02pm, and I’d tell myself I’d start at 3:30pm. Around 8pm, I’d be exhausted. Worn out by the stress of needing to write, and the reality that the writing wasn’t happening.

Then I put a meeting on my phone. Writing: 12:00pm-2:00pm. 

And I showed up.

My phone buzzes a half hour before. As soon as I see it, I finish lunch, do a last check for texts, plug the device in downstairs, and sit down in my writer’s room. On rough days, I even lock the door. The lock isn’t to keep people out, it’s more of a symbolic commitment to being in the writer’s space for the afternoon.

Writing is an open-ended task. A nebulous thing that half-fills your entire schedule. You can start at any time, even late at night if you feel so inclined. It’s like the cable repairman telling you he’ll be there between 8am and 6pm. Technically the day isn’t full, but you sure can’t do anything else.

Do yourself a favor and turn your writing into a meeting. Here’s a few ground rules: It’s okay to be late to a meeting from time to time. It’s okay to be early. Sometimes you sneak in a snack. But the important thing is that you are present and committed for the majority of the time block. Nobody likes a no-show.

And try not to reschedule your writing day-of. It’s easy to let other tasks push your writing around. To feel like it can happen later in the day, or that it isn’t a priority. Scheduling that time out is a statement to yourself. Your writing matters, and that two hour block belongs to you.

In my experience, turning that nebulous cloud of writing into a 2 hour block will give you more time in the day, not less.

Don’t spend your energy planning to write, spend it writing.

Momentum

Writing is tough. There are so many layers to a good scene, so many details to a story. The unfortunate truth is that it’s too much for one brain to remember for long.

If you stop writing for a week, you forget the upcoming scenes.

Stop for a month, you’ll forget the whole story.

Stop for three months and you’ll forget how to write in the first place.

The hardest day to write is your first day back from a break. Before you can prewrite, you have to remember the story all over again. Worse, you’ll have to remember why you liked it in the first place.

I wish it weren’t the case, but the only way to keep yourself from the pains of ‘returning to writing’ all the time is to never stop. There are two approaches here, daily goals and a writer’s streak.

Daily goals are the recognition that the only way to keep your brain thinking about a story is to make sure that story moves forward every time you write about it. I have a daily goal of 1,200 words. The benefit here is that each time I write, I’m about six pages and a scene further into the story. The downside is that writing 1,200 words can sometimes feel like scaling a mountain. If you can reach your goal everyday, it’s useful. If it’s so large it scares you, you risk exacerbating your existing reluctance.

The Writer’s Streak is a whole lot more forgiving. Each day, you only need a single word for the writer’s streak to continue. In time, writing becomes a habit. You wouldn’t throw away a 150-day writer’s streak just because you’re feeling a little tired, right? It’s a tool to keep you writing on the hard days, and thinking about your story every day.

No matter what method you choose, remember the real goal: keep the story moving, and keep your brain thinking about it.

Writer’s Reluctance

The brain likes to be comfortable, too comfortable. Sometimes I think it hates writing. It sure likes to come up with excuses. Errands to run, friends to see, not enough motivation, fear of imperfection. It’s up to each of us to tame our own brain, to force it to write day after day. But it can be done. We just have to be a little tricky.