No, You Don’t Have to Write Every Day

It’s writing advice that crops up time and time again: “To be a writer, you must write every day.” I was chatting about it on Twitter with fellow Mushens authors Ali Land and Stephen Aryan the other day, and I’m still mulling it over.

That piece of advice stressed me out so much when I was first starting out. Sometimes, I couldn’t write every day. I was juggling a full time job and life. Sometimes I was too anxious to write, too afraid of failure. Sometimes I was too tired. Sometimes I was ill. That was true then, and it’s still true now, six years later, when I am a full-time writer. I knew they didn’t often literally mean someone has to write every day even if they have the stomach flu, but it weaseled its way into my subconscious anyway. Every time I didn’t write, there it was: you’re not a real writer.

I still don’t write every day.

I write almost every day. My word counts are rarely super high, though they tend to be higher now than was when I had more to balance. I prefer the steady approach. I’ve tried to do the NaNoWriMo pace. It doesn’t work for me. I tried doing marathon sessions just a few times a week. That doesn’t work either. Little and often is my jam.

If I have a set, hard deadline, it does wonders for me writing more and quickly. If there’s not a contract yet and it’s something on spec? Much slower. Part of that is still confidence. Will anyone want this? Am I wasting my time? Sorry to say that, for me at least, that fear has never gone away. Imposter Syndrome is annoying, but all you can really do is try to push through and write anyway. Easier said than done.

Sometimes, opening the word document and staring at the screen, or staring at social media when I should be looking at the manuscript, is too much. A lot of the time, after a few minutes of puttering, I settle down and get going, and it’s fine. Othertimes, I just can’t. The words are ugly, or I don’t know what to write next, or I’m tired and worn out. Bashing my head against the keyboard because I feel I have to write every day is going to do more harm than good. I had a day like that a few weeks ago. I stared at the words, and they stared back and judged me, and I threw up my hands in disgust and walked away from the screen.

A mental health day can do wonders. Giving yourself permission to have that day or week off and get out of the house, away from the screen. To see friends, to go to the cinema, to go out for a meal. To sit on the sofa and read and drink tea. To go for a run or do a puzzle. Step back from the tricky bit of the manuscript. I find that, almost every time, if I allow myself a short break, I’ll solve that plot point when I’m washing dishes or something. Then I can go back fresh and actually fix it, rather than just wearing myself down further.

It’s good to write regularly, but it really doesn’t have to be every day. Find out what pace works for you so that you’re producing work at a rate that you’re happy with and able to hit. I set myself low writing goals of 500-1000 words a day at least 5 days a week. I often write a little more than that, but mentally smashing that lower threshold feels better for me, so that’s what I do. Find your habits and stick with them, but if you’re ill or unwell or really damn tired, take that step back. Just try to make sure it doesn’t turn from a break into a hiatus. Objects in motion stay in motion, and all that.

I’m nowhere near the first person to say that no, you don’t have to write every day. It still irritates me whenever something to that effect pops up in my feed. It erases the very real pressures of life, which have a way of stopping writing: stress that hampers creativity, having many roles to juggle, being a carer to someone else, needing to work overtime, chronic illness or a disability that might make writing every day impossible, financial woes, an injury. You’re pretty privileged if you can actually sit down to write every day, since not everyone can, even if they really want to. With all writing and writing advice, there is nothing approaching a one-size-fits-all approach.

I’m writing this for whoever wants to read this, but also for myself. I’ve been trying to give myself Sundays off without even trying to write, without feeling guilty. And it’s hard. I still feel that annoying little tendril of doubt and guilt. I’m about to have to ramp up my output in a rewrite, and I’m planning how to do it in a way that I still have breaks.

It’s okay to take time off, to recharge. For you, for me.