Flexibility in Your Writing Habits

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s the importance of being flexible. So much writing advice out there emphasizes routine–i.e. finding what works for you, and then sticking to it like one those weird sticky hands we all liked in the 90s/early 2000s that seemed to grow hair over time.

Most of the time, this advice is spot-on. I’m a huge advocate of writing every day, regardless of whether you feel like it or not. I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is write or edit. In this way, I treat it like going to school or work, or even just having breakfast. Not optional. After a while, the muse knows when it’s time to clock in, and you can ride that momentum through to the story’s end. An object in motion stays in motion. A writer who writes every day will continue writing every day.

But what happens when this discipline isn’t enough? When you sit down and the words. just. won’t. come?

I think it’s safe to say we’ve all experienced this. It’s frustrating, disheartening, and lots of other -ings. If you don’t believe in writer’s block, it’s even worse, because then you turn it back on yourself, creating a vortex of guilt, and empowering that evil little voice in your head. What’s wrong with you? it asks. Get it done. Stop fooling around. You’re just being lazy.

No. You’re not lazy. But you might be inflexible.

Here’s the thing. Once we writers figure out what works for us, we really don’t want to let go of it. We are creatures of superstition and habit. Most of the time, that’s fine! So long as it IS working. When it stops working, or stops the story in its tracks, or when it begins to impede your mental health, then it’s time to try something else.

Everyone knows flexibility in life is important. Things come up. Life happens. You adapt.

Flexibility in your writing habits is just as important, but for some reason we find it very scary. Like a pitcher who touches his hat three times before throwing a ball, to not do that seems insane. But when everyone’s hitting homers off you, either throw ’em a proper change-up or they’re going to start heating up the bull pen and pull you out.

No, wait. That’s baseball.

See? You have nothing to worry about then! No one’s going to take you away from your novel for writing it differently than “normal”. All that matters is the end result. A completed draft. How you get there? Irrelevant. Just get there. Finish.

Allow me to provide a few examples from my own life:

1) I’m a chronological writer, meaning I write in order of the story. I absolutely refused to jump around, even when I knew it worked for other writers. More recently I got completely wedged in my story. I didn’t want to write the scenes I was at, and no amount of discipline was getting me through it. In desperation, I decided to break my cardinal rule and jump ahead to the part of the story I did want to write. Lo and behold, it worked! Motivation flooded back to me, and the words began to flow.

2) I like to edit as I write, so my first drafts are generally cleaner and require much less structural work later on. Usually, this works for me. For one WIP, it absolutely didn’t. Again, I kept getting hung up on the prose, whether it was well-written, yada yada writer angst. I reached a point where I was either going to have to let go and write crap, or I was going to give up on the novel entirely. And I couldn’t do that. I believed in the story too much. I loved the characters too much. So I put a song on repeat, playing loudly in my earbuds, and I just wrote. As fast and wild and honestly as I’ve written in a long time. It was messy, raw, and likely need some line edit corrections, but it worked.

Maybe one of these two examples sounds like you. Maybe neither do. My point is, if you’re stuck, give yourself the freedom to change up your habits. Jump ahead if you need to. Take a few days off. Write awful, awful prose for a little while. Break routine.

The only rule in writing is there are no rules. Whatever works, works.

If it’s not working, that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It doesn’t mean you’ll never write another word again. Those are the voices of doubt in your head. Don’t listen to them! They’re stinky liars. Instead, acknowledge you’re struggling and then go with your gut. It takes time to develop good writerly instincts, so it’s good to start recognizing them early.

Good luck, and happy writing!