1)   One sentence a day.

One of my students had two young children at home and was trying to finish a memoir. She committed to writing one sentence a day. Because her primary challenge was to open the manuscript—that was always the hardest part for her, to make that start—the one sentence often lead to more, sometimes many more. But even if she only wrote one sentence, she touched the book, added to it, kept in contact (and eventually she finished the book!).

2)   Daydreaming and walking

Walking and daydreaming about your book can be tremendously productive, too, so long as you do find time to write–because of that gap between the experience of writing and the actual act itself. Still, storytelling does not require paper, and the rhythms of walking do a great deal to forward the momentum of a story, to remind us of the layered possibilities of setting, of the world.

3)   Quantity not quality

A commitment to a number of words each day (or each week) can be tremendously helpful. The clarity of quantity trumps the constant uncertainty about quality, which really cannot be a consideration in your daily routine. Word count reminds us of the athletic part of writing. You just get up and do it, like exercising. Does it ever help to think about whether you really want to exercise? To ponder the benefits of going to the gym? Never! You have to have your bag packed, get up and go. Same with writing.

4)   External structures

Classes and other external structures are brilliant for getting us out of our decision-making process and into the flow of the creative mind after it’s motoring along. There is one more week until BWW classes begin for the New Year. Join us now!

5)   An invitation to the muse

When you show up day after day, something strange happens. Inspiration begins to arrive on schedule, too. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to warm up. You know this, though, and you write badly until you begin to write well, just as you might walk and creak until your bones and muscle are warm.

Oh—one other thing. Each day is a new day. It might not be a new year; it won’t always be a holiday. On the other hand, you’re not hung over or lacking sleep (maybe). It’s morning. The dawning of this new day. Anything can happen, especially if the same thing always does—inside your writing schedule, the world is wide open, newly awake, ready for adventure . . .