This Is How I Write Every Single Day Of The Year
The daily formula I use for consistent, quality output
The thing about writing is it’s like any other endeavor. The success of it doesn’t happen all that quickly, and if you’re looking to improve along the way, it takes time. And you have to write a lot.
Macklemore’s insight in his “Ten Thousand Hours” —
The greats weren’t great because at birth they could paint
The greats were great because they’d paint a lot
— holds true for writers too, I think. In fact, it wouldn’t be flawed to assume this holds true across all that we devote ourselves to.
Finding success in the form of readers doesn’t come easily either. And when you understand that the average reading speed is around 200 to 250 words per minute, as compared to the average writing speed of just over 40 words per minute, the process sounds grueling and without much reward.
Sometimes I pause after a good page-full of work and think:
I spent more than 30 minutes on this, but it’ll be read in under 30 seconds.
But the disappointment from that realization doesn’t last long. My liking everything about writing — from the brainstorming stage to the final edits of a draft — swoops in and saves me.
It almost goes without saying. You should be doing something because it’s you. You’re satisfied with it for it alone. The absence of outside validation doesn’t cross your mind, and certainly doesn’t bring you down.
It’s called intrinsic motivation.
For me, writing is just that. That’s not to say I don’t feel some pleasure and pride (you know, stuff for the ego) from views online here, or from generous feedback on other creative projects. But I don’t let external motivation run me.
So, as a guiding principle, I’m a believer in a little self-evaluation.
Ask yourself,
“Is my heart in it? Would I continue if there’s never a payoff?”
If the answer’s Yes, then you’re on the right track.
Now to the nuts and bolts of how I write.
I’ve tried the old-fashioned pen and paper way, but I may be too technologically dependent because I much prefer typing. Put simply, it’s faster.
There are actually really interesting arguments for both methods.
For writing by hand, it’s said here that
Handwriting is a complex task which requires various skills — feeling the pen and paper, moving the writing implement, and directing movement by thought…When you draft a text on the screen, you can change it as much as you like but there is no record of your editing. The software does keep track of the changes somewhere, but users cannot access them. With a pen and paper, it’s all there. Words crossed out or corrected, bits scribbled in the margin and later additions are there for good, leaving a visual and tactile record of your work and its creative stages.
For typing, it’s said we value
Cognitive automaticity, the ability to think as fast as possible, freed as much as can be from the strictures of whichever technology we must use to record our thoughts…This is what typing does for millions. It allows us to go faster, not because we want everything faster in our hyped-up age, but for the opposite reason: we want more time to think.
I must, then, want time to think more than “a visual and tactile record” of my creative iterations.
Typing is more comfortable for me, and it’s night and day how much more productive I am on my laptop. Plus, should I need the dictionary or thesaurus, it’s one click away, as are multiple browser windows for research.
On the subject of my laptop, I should add that fending off distractions via the internet isn’t second nature to most. I’m no exception, which means there are strategies in place to help me help myself.
First, I void my WiFi signal. No WiFi, no cyberspace black hole.
But sometimes I require WiFi because I have to cross- and double-check my facts. It’s a hassle to shut off and shut on WiFi constantly, so I leave it on. But if it’s on, I reinforce my “protection” with a timer. I set a timer for an hour. I can’t touch Safari until that hour’s up and I’ve completed something substantial.
If your attention span’s extra short, hit Do Not Disturb on your phone — or just hide it in another room.
Tunnel vision’s the intensity I aspire to. Anything less, and my efficiency rating isn’t half what it could be.
Environment is a big contributor to my enthusiasm to get writing. If it’s dark, dirty and disorganized, my OCD gnaws and gnaws till I’m left with no option but to clean up and create a more cultivating space.
Lighting is necessary. If it’s natural lighting from the sun, all the better. If it’s grey out, I shine a bright lamp on my desk. This literally spotlights where I’ll pour my energies.
I tidy up everywhere and only have my laptop in front of me.
I’m not one to write for hours on end. I don’t necessarily aim for a fixed number of hours a day to write, but two is the bare minimum. The golden mean is about four to five. If I can manage anything in between, I’m usually all right.
I section off periods for relaxation, eating and miscellany (which tends to be doing a whole lot of nothing). To not have free periods would, I imagine, lead to burnout real fast.
If, however, I’m on a roll and the writing flows out as naturally as blood from an open wound, then time doesn’t exist and I write till the spirit departs.
If it’s one of those days — brain fog and laziness, I’m looking at you — I do my utmost to still squeeze out something of a verdict. If it’s an unfinished article or worse, an unpublishable article, I revisit it another day.
To grease the skids, coffee isn’t ever out of reach. Sometimes even standing as opposed to sitting can be the tonic to release me from my rut.
When I’m on the road — maybe I’m abroad or quite literally driving all day — I don’t have the luxury of my trusty chair and desk. I may not even have my laptop available.
In this case, I do one of two things.
I channel Nabokov and plump for index cards. I locate a hard surface and break out the pen and eraser.
or
I get to my destination and immediately search out a computer lab, be it in the hotel/motel/inn I’m staying at, or in the local area.
This may sound extreme — what’s one day not writing in the grander scheme? — but it’s out of my control.
I’ve been writing for so long now that to not — even, yes, for one day — would be the same as not brushing my teeth. It’s not as much achieving a word count goal or extending the streak as it is closing the last bit of the day’s circle.
I picture a circle with the day’s hours on it. Assigned to the hours are the basics: eat, sleep, etc. Writing has nudged its way in there. There’s no making it through the 24 hours if I don’t write.
Even if I’m busy all day and it’s nearly impossible to write, whether due to time constraints or fatigue, I force myself. I’m of the opinion it’s planting the habit chip in your brain that really allies you to the activity of writing. Once it’s confirmed as a habit (which happens with regularity), it’ll be far easier to write.
Inspiration is worth covering.
Inspiration ebbs and flows. When it’s “on”, I milk it as much as I can. I’m full speed ahead, zero stoppages because I don’t want any.
When it’s not on and it’s a task to write a piece, I have to grope for something to jolt me into the mood. This isn’t too difficult. I return to the book I’m reading at the moment, or I watch scenes from one of my favorite films, or I get out into nature. A combination of the three if none by themselves are doing the trick.
If I’m struggling to pin down a theme to write about, Google isn’t reluctant to feed me thousands on thousands of ideas. More organically, I pause and encourage my thoughts to wander in any which direction they please. Eventually they’ll deliver me something.
Advice these days can be pretty stock. It’s nothing we haven’t heard before. Actually cracking on, though, is where you start losing people.
Treating writing as you would a day job is a step forward. This serious mindset will recast writing from a pastime to a minor occupation. It’s in these terms that I approach writing, because slapping the label of leisure on it doesn’t excite me, and if I’m not excited and in attack mode, I’m not in peak form, not fired up to give it my all.
But some of us would rather a more nonchalant attitude towards writing, and towards life in general. That’s fine. It does relieve some of the pressure and you won’t beat yourself up over a missed assignment, falling short of your goal and what have you.
The happy reality of writing is that it’s a subjective sort of expression. As such, there isn’t one and only one means by which to go at it.
But if you’re not already sick and tired of the same old words of wisdom, I’ll echo this line:
Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.
That’s Sylvia Plath. Nothing would be possible if not for self-belief. Writing included.
