There’s a part of me that can’t believe that I’ve met my goal for 22 days.

There’s another part that can’t imagine stopping before the book is done.

I’m especially proud of having stayed on track this weekend. On Friday night, I was away at a Bible study retreat. I don’t usually go away overnight; in fact, this was the first night I’ve voluntarily been away from home since the beginning of the pandemic. But I went prepared to stay on track: I took my Surface, my notebook, my flash drives, and my computer glasses. By nine-thirty, I was set up on the spare bed in my room, and I wrote my 1,000 words, plus some.

Somewhat surprisingly, it was the next night that was more challenging. I was home, and Charlotte was sulking in the bedroom, which meant I wrote alone in the living room. The problem was that I was exhausted. I literally dozed off at least four times, waking to find that I’d kept typing in my sleep. This would have been fine, except the words—and yes, I was typing real words—didn’t make any sense. So I had to delete them and press on. I hit 1,000 words on the nose and called the night done.

Char was still sufficiently miffed that she didn’t join me last night, but tonight, she was in the living room, waiting for me to settle in for writing time so she could join me. And so, I’m back to my routine: tea, music, recliner, Charlotte, and writing. It’s a nice routine, and I wonder that it took me so long to find it.

When I first started writing, back in the fan fiction days, I wrote at night during the week, plus on Tuesdays since I used to take that day off, as well as whatever time I could carve out for writing on weekends. I vividly recall one night when I was working on a story, and I kept falling asleep. I pushed on, determined to finish at least the scene before I went to bed. I don’t know what happened to that kind of doggedness, but Saturday was the first time in a long time when I remember pushing back against sleep to write.

When I was working on State v. Claus, I wrote for the first hour of my workday, often on the treadmill. In those days, my mind felt clearer in the morning than at night. Once I was finished with that draft, though, I printed it out to edit by hand, and that was the end of my treadmill habit.

Since then, I’ve had no clear writing habit. So many books and articles encourage setting a regular schedule and sticking to it no matter what, but the truth is that this is hard even for someone like me, who is self-employed and not responsible for childcare or other demanding tasks. I have no idea how writers maintain regular routines when their jobs and/or loved ones require them to adjust their writing time every day, but I tip my hat to them.

One thing I can say after more than three weeks of daily practice: writing every day makes a difference. I almost hate to say it, because the notion of writing every day is so controversial. Some people, like Stephen King, view a daily writing practice as mandatory; others instruct writers just to do what works for them and not worry about such rules. All I know is that writing every day instead of writing at my convenience has been helpful for me in moving this book forward. Working on it every day keeps my mind in the story so that when I sit down to write, I don’t have to expend valuable time and effort figuring out what’s going on and where I’m going next. I already know where I am, so I can focus on what comes next.

Another plus to a daily writing practice is that I don’t have to wonder when I’m going to fit writing into my day, or whether I’ll feel like writing at all, because it’s already a given. Long ago, I recall reading an interview with a ballet dancer who talked about going to class every day, seven days a week. She said it was just what she did every day, like drinking her orange juice or brushing her teeth. Just as I don’t debate whether to wash my face and apply moisturizer before going to bed, I know that around 9:30, it’s time to make tea and put on the music so I can settle into the recliner and write my 1,000 words before the 11:00 news. Could I be doing other things, like cleaning the bathroom or reading a book? Of course. There are always other things to do. The thing is that at least for now, I’m okay moving those things to make way for my writing instead of moving the writing so I can scrub the toilet.

I’m not saying that every writer must write every day. All I’m saying—and this is true for any creative endeavor—is that if you get into a regular creative practice, you may be pleasantly surprised at how much you accomplish toward your ultimate goals, whether they are to craft a final project for sale or display or to enrich your soul with the fruits of your creative work.