I’ve written a lot about writing advice – the good and the bad – but if there is one piece of ‘accepted wisdom’ I’d like to see killed by fire, it’s ‘writers must write every day’.
It comes packaged in many forms – ‘real writers write every day’, you are told, as if being a writer is an uncontrollable impulse that must be indulged at all costs, and if you can manage a whole 24 hours without it then… what? They revoke your club membership? You’ve failed some test you never agreed to, somehow proved you aren’t ‘real’ – in your talent, your commitment, your drive? No ‘real writer’ badge for you, slacker! (And what’s a real writer, anyway? Someone who makes money from it? Katie Hopkins gets paid to write, people, and I’m not even sure she’s a real human).
Then there’s the other, no less pernicious tone: ‘sorry to be so blunt, guys’, you’re told, ‘but you have to write every day, or you might as well not bother, because you’ll never achieve anything otherwise.’ This materialises every so often – I’m writing this in response to an article that’s currently doing the rounds on the theme of ‘write every day or you might as well quit’ (and which, sorry, I can’t be arsed to find the link to, since I think it’s BS anyway). And it’s so toxic because it masquerades as ‘tell ‘em like it is’ wisdom. They’re just being honest, you dreamers! And if you can’t take it, you’re too soft for this biz!
Of course, if there’s one thing you should never trust, it’s tell ‘em like it is wisdom, since the people telling it like it is are almost invariably twats. So I invite your scepticism – I have no omnipotent knowledge of ‘how it is’. Just my own experience (both as a writer and someone who used to be paid to edit and / or manage other writers). And on that basis, I am saying: this is a load of crap.
And yes, yes, before I start, I know as well as you do there are many noble examples of writers who assign their success to such a mantra – Terry Pratchett famously wrote every day, and at one stage had to stop putting out two books a year because the marketing for one was running into the next one. We’ve all heard stories of the first-time novelist who wrote their debut by getting up at 5am before the kids were awake, or scribbled chapters in their car after a ten-hour shift down the hospital. And I applaud those people, I truly do. But not everyone can be like that, and that’s OK.
Why do I hate ‘write every day’ more than any other piece of writerly advice? For a start, well-meaning as it often is, in practice it can be exclusionary: sexist, classist and ableist. Sexist, because the reasons women often can’t carve out time to write come with their disproportionate responsibilities as primary caregivers – to children, to ailing family members, to housework. Classist, because if you are struggling financially, your focus is often on work, or activities that bring in income: many working class artists only flourish in later life, as they don’t have the support, opportunities or even expectations to do so when young. Ableist because some health issues – mental or physical – make it simply impossible to do anything every day.
None of these are necessarily insurmountable problems to being a writer. But they may mean you have to adopt a strategy of finding writing space and energy when you can, in the gaps and the margins: and that just might not be every day.
I got my first (paid) short story published in a magazine when I was 17, so I have been at this whole writing malarkey for nearly 30 years now. During that time, there were periods where I was working two jobs to keep a roof over my head – going from a full-time day job in a bookshop to evening shifts in a bar, so tired that my priority was not walking into traffic, not untangling a knotty plot structure. I’ve had recurring health issues that made it impossible to pick up a pen, to concentrate past chronic pain. I’ve had jobs so demanding all my spare energy went into seeing how quietly I could cry in the toilets; I’ve dealt with family crises that left me so drained with twice daily treks to the hospital, I could barely sign my name. And I’ve also had multiple jobs where writing was the core of my role, and so it was what I was doing for 8 or 10 hours a day for a living. And I still didn’t write every day. Because sometimes life forces you to put things you love on a back burner. Sometimes you just need a bloody holiday. And sometimes a field needs to lie fallow if it’s ever going to bear any crops.
Seeing past the clickbait headlines
And you know the worst part of the ‘write every day’ mantra? It’s that often, that’s not even what they mean. People say that, but what they mean is: writing is a muscle, and you have to use it. You have to work at it, you have to hone it, and if you leave it long-neglected, it’ll go rusty. You can’t expect to be brilliant or successful without practice, without rewriting, without spending time on what you are creating. You have to write when you don’t feel like it, when you’re not enjoying it, when it feels like wading through sludge. You can’t wait for inspiration to strike, you can’t wait for the ‘perfect’ time or place or circumstances to write, or you’ll be waiting around forever. And this is great advice. This is true advice. This is advice that will make you a better and potentially more successful writer.
And best of all: this is flexible advice, that you can take to heart and learn from but still adapt to your circumstances. You don’t write a word for two years because you were busy nursing an elderly mother or raising boisterous kids? Fine. Don’t punish yourself for that: just accept you’ll be rusty when you go back to it, and take that into account. A health issue knocks you sideways? Leave aside the self-recrimination at neglecting your writing, just be determined that when you can get back to it, you will.
Learn to be honest with yourself: can I really not find the time/energy to write, or am I scared of what will happen if I do (the risk of rejection, the fear of exposure, the terror of failure – or of success)? It’s easy to use real problems as fake excuses, and if you do that, you’ll need to get past it – or, yes, you’ll never be a writer, because you’ll always find a reason not to be.
But writing comes with enough self-doubt and criticism. Don’t let some impossible standard set by someone who has no idea of you or your life add to that. Find a method that works for you – and go do it.
Like my writing? You can support me in a whole load of ways (some of them for FREE!)
If you’re skint: RTs and shares always welcome. Reviews of anything of mine you have read on Amazon or Goodreads or any book related/social media site, no matter how short, help boost profile. Tell your friends how lovely I am (leave out the needy bit.)
Donate to my Ko-fi. All the cool kids have one. (I am not cool, obviously, but have been assured this is true).
Buy my books: Some are available for as little as a quid! Not these two, mind, but others.
Rom-com with a dash of Northern charm: The Bridesmaid Blues
Paranormal adventure with snark and sexiness: Dark Dates: Cassandra Bick Chronicles: Volume 1
Contemporary dark fiction with a twist: Doll and No Love is This in paperback and on Kindle
Want some swag? Buy a bag or a tee. And be sure to send me a picture! I’m on Instagram (@traceysinclair23) or Twitter (@thriftygal)
Note: This site uses affiliate links
Another bit of advice writers receive constantly is: go away and leave your work alone for a while so you can view it with fresh eyes after a break. One reason I agree with your blog post (aside from the the classist, ablest, sexist arguments which are very strong too) is that if we follow this “take a break” advice we can’t also follow the “write every day” reasoning. And I know which I prefer (sitting in front of the tennis as I write this).
Ha! Yes. Though I usually have a lot of things on the go at once so technically I could do that and write every day – I just don’t!
Thanks for sharing what a lot of us writers are thinking/ not doing!
Yes, I think you have expressed exactly why I was so conflicted about that article. Because I did agree with certain aspects of it – but that is precisely that muscle metaphor you point out. I’ve had to leave my novel aside for months at a time, and it’s always very painful to get back into it, even though I was ‘technically’ writing every day (poetry, blog posts, reviews, just not the novel because of an overwhelming combination of factors). Still, discipline of some kind is crucial – but it’s got to be tailored to every individual.
Thank goodness for some refreshingly honest advice on the subject. I’m currently not writing and for good reason. Did I feel guilty? Yes. Do I feel guilty now? No… Thank you!
Glad you don’t feel guilty anymore!
Thank God! My husband has some professional challenges which meant he might lose his job and we could lose our home. I couldn’t think with worry let alone write but the guilt never left. Made me hate the who idea of having the dream in the first place.
Pingback: The Life-Changing Magic of Getting a Cleaner | Dark Dates
Pingback: Mileage May Vary – writing advice and a dash of self-care | Dark Dates
Pingback: New Year, New Novel? Here’s some writing Resolutions You Just Might Keep | Dark Dates
Pingback: Yes, you ARE still a writer if you don’t write every day | Dark Dates
Pingback: No concentration? No problem! No-pressure writing prompts for when your mojo is awol | Dark Dates
Pingback: Coping with coronavirus craziness: writing tips to help you if lockdown has left you no focus or no time | Dark Dates
Pingback: Writing resolutions you can try – even in a plague year! – ProdigalGeordie
Pingback: Some writing resolutions you can keep even in a plague year | Dark Dates
Pingback: Writing resolutions for people who hate resolutions | Dark Dates