The most common advice that first time authors receive is that they should develop a writing routine. There’s a great deal of good suggestions on the internet about writing routines for academic authors. Authors are encouraged to write every day at least for an hour and more when possible, but they should stop writing after a certain number of hours so they don’t exhaust themselves to the point where they are unable to write the next day. Even when it feels like you’re on a roll, you shouldn’t stay up late to finish the segment you are working on. Instead, the unfinished ideas will help you get the ball rolling the next day. All of this is good advice, but it can be hard to figure out how to apply it to your personal situation. So in this post I want to describe my writing routine in minute detail. My routine itself was nothing interesting, but I remember finding it useful to hear about other people’s writing routines while I was working on my manuscript as it helped me think through the best routine for me. This post is a continuation of my series about my experience as a first-time book author.
My situation was unusual in that my first book was not based on the dissertation. I was fortunate enough to be on the tenure-year track at a research school, but the tenure process imposed a rigid timeline for developing, researching, drafting, and revising a new monograph from scratch. As a result, my writing routine was more extreme than for most junior faculty. Research and writing became a sort of deluge that filled up my life, leaving only tiny islands of time set aside for eating, sleeping, household chores, and teaching. Yet being on the tenure-track at a research school was also an undeniable advantage. I benefited from research funds, mentoring from senior colleagues, access to interlibrary loans, a light teaching load of two course per semester, and a high enough salary that I could outsource certain household chores. I had a few other, less tangible advantages too. I had no dependents, and my very supportive spouse lived a few states away at the time, which meant I had few daily responsibilities outside of work and could let research dictate my life. I also chose to live close to my university so I could walk to the office, and that daily roundtrip walk was critical for maintaining my physical and mental health. I could never have churned out my first book on a short timeline without such favorable conditions.
I drafted most of the manuscript while I was teaching and had to organize my writing routine around my teaching schedule. Luckily for me, my institution allowed me to teach the same repertoire of classes for several years. (Those classes fulfilled general education requirements which kept the administration happy.) My teaching schedule changed every semester, but for the sake of simplicity, I will describe my routine from one particular semester. Both of my classes that semester met twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the first one in the mid-afternoon and the second in the late afternoon.
My daily writing routine started the moment I woke up at 6 AM, and I wrote an hour before breakfast every day of the week. These early writing sessions jump-started my writing and ensured that I would continue to thinking about my research for the remainder of the day. In fact, my walk to the office became an opportunity to review and revise in my head what I had just written.
On Mondays and Wednesdays, I continued writing the moment I arrived in the office and did not stop until the mid-afternoon, except for a lunch break. These writing sessions were often the most productive because my walk to the office sparked my creativity. I left off writing in the mid-afternoon to prepare for my first class the next day. I did no writing or lesson-planning after dinner and reserved the evenings for chores.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I started my day with the same early-morning writing sessions, but I abruptly stopped thinking about research the moment I arrived at work. Instead, I spent the morning preparing for my second class. The afternoons were spent teaching and taking care of administrative work. I sometimes managed to cram in fifteen-minute writing sessions here and there. After coming home, I forced myself to write at least an hour after dinner. These evening writing sessions were often the most frustrating and least creative, but they kept the ideas in my head so that I could pick up where I left off at six the next morning.
Friday mornings started with early-morning writing followed by a workout at the gym. Exercise spurred my creativity even more than my daily walk to work and alleviated the back, neck, and elbow pain caused by endless hours at the computer. I usually went to the office afterwards and wrote until dinnertime, then reserved the evenings for chores.
I continued my habit of early-morning writing sessions on the weekends. I stayed at home during the day just long enough to do chores but otherwise spent most of the day in the office writing. But I avoided doing writing in the evening unless I was enjoying one of those rare streaks of creativity. My routine during summers and breaks followed the same pattern as the weekends.
Initially, I found it quite difficult to motivate myself to write every day, especially those evening sessions. So I decided to implement a reward system for myself. My parents never used dessert as a reward, but I know that many parents do to keep their children in line, and I thought I would try it on myself. If it works on a toddler… maybe it’ll work on me? I allowed myself to eat a cookie on Friday if I managed to write at least an hour every day that week. This probably sounds like it verges on disordered eating, but I actually loved it. My body has always had very low tolerance for sugar, and I’ve never been able to eat more than two or three sugary desserts a week at most. I actually ate more cookies while working on the manuscript than at any other point in my adult life, and no cookie has ever tasted so sweet as the one earned through arduous writing. I think I discontinued the cookie routine after two or three months, as I didn’t feel like I needed it anymore, but it was absolutely essential for getting me into the habit of writing.
My other reward system were presents for myself. Every time I finished a new chapter, I bought myself a not-too-expensive gift, usually no more than a hundred dollars. Perusing online catalogues and dreaming of that reward motivated me to write, especially if I wanted to take advantage of a sale or snatch up an item before it sold out. I can’t tell you how many times fantasizing about that upcoming gift helped me make it through one of those painful evening sessions. Thus, I became the proud owner of a new skirt and nice collection of costume jewelry.
If this writing routine sounds miserable, it’s because it often was, and I have complicated feelings about those last few years on the tenure track. Although I managed to prioritize eating healthy, I had so little time to cook that my diet became horribly boring. At one point, I ran out of salt and had so much on my mind that I just could never remember to buy more, and I stopped flavoring my food for two whole years. I was recluse who lived mostly in my bedroom and my office and rarely got to spend time with family and friends other than during the holidays. And I worked on my manuscript even on the holidays. Unsurprisingly, the rigidity and severity of my writing routine took its toll. I went to the doctor several times for elbow pain, and I sometimes used therapy clay to alleviate the soreness in my fingers from so much typing. I slept quite poorly and felt anxious all the time. Yet I also remember those years as a time of creativity and discovery, and the intensity of research translated into passionate, vivid teaching. My story has a happy ending in that I am satisfied with my first book, imperfect as it is, and was awarded tenure, but I can’t pretend that those accomplishments didn’t come at a great cost.
Image credit: Terrane Barksdale (pexels.com)