"Write Every Day" and other useless advice
Schedules, intentions, and the blender of bad advice
Maybe this topic is on my mind because it’s summer and my kids are therefore—quelle surprise—ALWAYS HERE and my usual rhythms of work are completely hosed. But first:
The Worldbuilding for Masochists podcast is launching…an anthology! Some time ago the podcast hosted the delightful Kate Elliott, who played along with our on-air game of co-building a secondary fantasy world. Kate gave us a system of in-world portals connecting locations. Neat! The catch? You can’t take any physical objects with you—only living creatures can pass through the gates. Yes, that includes the clothes you were wearing. Because of this we (naturally) dubbed them “The Magical Nude Gates.” And now we're inviting our friends to write stories of a world where a magical portal steals your pants and dumps you hundreds or thousands of miles away. If this sounds fun, check out our contributors so far and pledge your support on Kickstarter!
Anyway. Back to that advice that summer break and plenty of other intrusions of real life kills right quick: Write Every Day.
Where did this come from, anyway? Every once in a while, some expert with the qualifications “has Twitter account” will shout out this sage bit of advice. It’s not infrequently accompanied by vaguely scoffing language: “Well, if you want to be a real writer…” “If you take writing seriously…” “Unless you’re just a hobbyist…”
First of all, there is nothing wrong with writing as a hobby. There’s no such thing as “just” a hobbyist—frankly, writing because you love it and expect no other incentive but your own enjoyment is a beautiful thing in this hustle-based culture. That goes for any creative endeavor. You can knit without selling your scarves. You can garden without opening a booth at the farmer’s market. You can draw, paint, or sculpt and never expect to take a commission. It’s actually financially smarter, if you care about that, most of the time—ask anyone who’s tried selling their scarves or opening that booth whether it was “worth” it when it came to profit margins. But in a culture that does tend to prize productivity, where productivity is closely tied to “what did you make” it’s really no surprise that personal satisfaction is often given second-tier placement.
That should be the first clue that this kind of writing “advice” is a wee bit suspect. It assumes an increase in the value of your writing if you’re working toward publication, or with an eye toward a sustained career where “career” means, even if never stated, cashmoney. (PS In case no one has told you yet, the cashmoney in writing is…well, it’s not great, kids. Get a job literally anywhere else if you can.)
That isn’t to say that some things shift when you move from writing for fun and enjoyment and to release the angry characters in your head who demand you tell their stories (oh, just me?) to aiming for publication. But your VALUE does not, and neither does the value of your work.
Now that that’s handled, let’s tackle “advice” itself. There’s plenty of it out there—the basic formula being “If you want to ‘succeed’ [meaning unclear] at [insert creative endeavor] you must [apply this specific mode or metric to your work.” If you want to be a good painter, you have to learn pencil drawing first. If you want to write sci-fi, you have to read the classics. If you want to be a real baker, you have to make your own fondant and never use store-bought anything.
The thing is, there’s usually some little grain of truth buried in there. Take “write every day.” Ok—if you want to “succeed” meaning “publish traditionally” you do have to think about the time you spend writing a little differently than if you are writing for your own joy. Sometimes you have to write when you’re not feeling it. With contracts (yay!) come deadlines (not so yay). For most professional writers, you can’t wait for the perfect combination of inspiration and time—you have to facilitate one or both of those a little (or a lot). Many people find a regular schedule helpful. Others find daily, weekly, or monthly word count goals useful.
I know exactly zero writers who write every day.
They exist! I’m sure they do! But here’s where the grain of truth separates from the rigid prescription. Yes, in order to sustain a career in writing, you will have to find ways to write regularly and meet deadlines. You will have to write not only on days when inspiration is a happy rainbow hovering over your desk but when you have to hunt it down with a club. No, that doesn’t necessarily mean your writing schedule is “every day.” The conceptual advice is very different from the prescriptive advice.
Where does the conceptual break with the prescriptive? When you apply it to your real, actual life. Everyone’s life is a different mashup of responsibilities, relationships, preferences, obligations and here’s the really fun part—they’re constantly changing. For me, summer break takes my usual routine and puts it in a blender on high. I have to return to the conceptual Good Idea and re-evaluate the pragmatics of how to apply it.
(If you’ve recently asked how writing is going and I responded with an eye twitch—her name is Stella—now you know why.)
Any time you encounter creative advice out in The Wild, it’s a good idea to keep in mind two questions. First, without applying any metrics of value, what are your intentions, and do they align with the intentions assumed by the person giving advice? If you don’t care a fig for publication, any advice about “the market” is just noise. If you aren’t going to sell your lemon cucumbers, who gives a rat’s hiney about advice for pricing them? If the intentions do line up, you can ask a second question—is this advice sharing a concept I can adapt and apply to my individual situation, or is it a prescription? If it’s the latter, can you find the grain of truth hidden in what is, actually, at the end of the day, “This worked for me and maybe it will work for you too.”
For now, I’m going to attempt to apply a different truth of creative life—some seasons are more productive than others. (Like fall, winter, and spring.) So give yourself grace and do what you can.
Your obligatory chickens. These are English Orpington chicks. No, they’re not naturally day-glo pink—I have no idea why the hatchery dyed my chick!
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I'm one of those people who advise "write every day." I started a daily writing practice in 1987. Some of those days are editing days, or submitting days, or promotion days. But I don't set a time limit (ten minutes a day will keep you writing), and I don't set a word count. But I write to publish or get my plays produced. If a person doesn't have that goal in mind, that's fine. Writing for oneself is fine too. For me, writing is creating something, and creating something gives me life. I could work at jobs I wasn't crazy about so long as I was writing every day before work. I can get through grief, anger, depression, or boredom so long as I have my writing practice. And I thank you for posting pictures of your chickens! Chickens bring me and my daughter joy every single day.