Writing Challenges

The Daily Dance of Showing Up: A Writer's Honest Take on Writing Habits

Sitting down to work

So the above is a pretty image that doesn't near approximate my writing habit.

I have written approximately 847 brilliant opening lines while brushing my teeth. I've crafted entire dialogue scenes while folding laundry (why are there always so many socks?), and I've solved every plot problem known to humanity while standing in the grocery store checkout line, only to arrive home and stare at my computer screen feeling like my mind shut down.

Sound familiar? Welcome to the wonderfully maddening world of writing. Or, harder yet, the world of trying to maintain a writing schedule.

Now, before you think I'm about to launch into some inspiring manifesto about discipline and dedication, let me just say that my writing habits have about as much consistency as my attempts at keeping my house clean or my flower beds weeded. Which is to say, sporadic at best, with occasional moments of elbows up, get 'er done, followed by long periods of neglect and guilt.

But here's the thing about creative writing – it's like that friend who always forgives you for not calling, even when you've been terrible at staying in touch. Words are patient. They wait for you, sometimes hiding in the most unexpected places, ready to surprise you when you finally show up.

The truth is, developing any kind of writing habit feels a bit like trying to train a particularly stubborn cat. You can set up all the right conditions – the perfect writing space, the motivational quotes stuck to your monitor, the fancy notebooks, and trust me, I have ALL the notebooks. There’s nothing that makes me feel more ‘inspired’ than a new notebook and a new pen. Plus, perfect writing space. But the words still can be slippery.

I used to think that "real" writers were the ones who bounded out of bed at 5 AM, plonked their steaming mug of coffee by the computer, cracked their knuckles, then started ‘banging away’. Which makes me think of an old Shoe cartoon. The one about the newspaper. The keener, named Skyler comes up to Shoe who is lounging at his desk, looking rather bored. Skyler is annoyed. “You should be pounding the keyboard,” Skyler reprimands Shoe. Shoe gives him an enigmatic look and says. “Typists pound keyboard. Writers stare out of windows.”

I hang onto that cartoon when I feel like I’m not ‘pounding out words’. I have a lovely window to look out of as well, thanks to my husband taking care of one of the above – perfect office space. Ideas come to me and maybe, if things work out, I might be actually pounding the keyboard

As for the ‘real’ writer part. I don’t drink coffee. I don’t bound out of bed. (I’d throw my hip out if I did any bounding).  I have since realized that writing habits are as individual as fingerprints. Some people are sprinters, others are marathon runners, and some of us are more like Sunday strollers who occasionally break into an unexpected jog when something interesting catches our eye. And try not to jog down too many side-trails.

The real challenge isn't finding the perfect time to write – it's showing up even when you don't feel like it. Especially when you don't feel like it. Because let's be honest, there are days when sitting down to write feels about as appealing as organizing your sock drawer or reading the fine print on your insurance policy.

On those days, my inner critic to reminds me of all the reasons why I should probably just give up this whole writing thing. "You haven't written anything good in weeks," it will say. "You're behind on everything. Your characters are boring. That dialogue you wrote yesterday sounds like robots discussing the weather."

My inner critic isn’t Good or Kind or say things that are Necessary.

But here's what I've learned about that ornery inner voice: she's loudest when I'm not writing, and she gets surprisingly quiet once I actually start putting words on the page. It's like she's all bluster and no substance – a writing bully who only has power when I’m not actually doing the thing you're supposed to be doing.

The magic happens in those moments when you sit down, even when you don't want to, and just start typing. Maybe it's garbage. Maybe it's genius. Most likely, it's somewhere in between. But the act of showing up, of putting fingers to keyboard and letting whatever wants to come out just... come out, that's where the real writing happens.

I used to think inspiration had to come to me before I could write. But, like Pablo Picasso once said, “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

I've discovered that my writing habit doesn't need to look impressive to anyone else. Some days it's a thousand words of pure creative flow. Other days it's editing the same paragraph seventeen times until it finally says what I actually meant. Sometimes it's just sitting with my notebook and scribbling random thoughts that may or may not turn into something useful later. Sometimes it’s checking out You Tube or making images in Canva.

I used to write a weekly column for our newspaper. It was the first ‘paid’ writing I ever did. Nothing fancy. Just ‘slice of life’ stuff. Stories from around Our Place. Which is what I called the column. I learned more from the weekly column about coming up with ideas when I thought the well was dry. Putting words on paper, every week, even when I didn’t feel like it. It made me pay attention. I trained my brain to notice article ideas everywhere. The conversation I overheard at the coffee shop. A truck flying past us, trailer dragging behind him on one wheel. (I still think of that one and desperately want to know the rest of that story) Something my husband would say. I collected ideas and learned, the hard way, to write them down. Even bought yet another pen – this one with a light on it – so I could write out ideas on the stack of recipe cards I had by my bed.

And then there are those days – oh, those glorious days – when everything clicks. When the words flow like I’ve tapped into some gushing well, when my characters surprise me with what they say, when I look up from my computer and realize I've been writing for three hours and it felt like three minutes.

Those are the days that make all the showing up worth it. Those are the days that remind me why I fell in love with this crazy, impossible, wonderful craft in the first place.

The magic isn't in writing perfectly. The magic is in writing anyway. In believing that my words matter, even when they feel messy and imperfect and nowhere near as brilliant as that opening line I thought of while brushing my teeth.

So if you're struggling to establish your own writing habit, be gentle with yourself. Start small. Show up when you can. Forgive yourself when you don't. Remember that every single published author you admire has felt exactly the way you feel right now, has stared at the same blank page, has battled the same inner critic. Has, at times, thought something, anything, maybe even packing groceries at the co-op is easier than this.

The only difference between a writer who gives up and a writer who doesn't is simple: the one who doesn't give up keeps writing anyway. Even if it's only five words. Like I tell my writing friend, that's five words less I have to do next time I sit down to write.

And trust me, your future self – the one holding your finished manuscript – will thank you for every imperfect day you chose to show up.

 I've spent many years perfecting discipline, haven't quite hit it yet, but realize I don't need the 'perfect' day to feel like I've accomplished anything. As a result I've written quite a few books. Click on the cover's below to find your new favourite series.