It turns out that there are downsides and upsides to a daily writing practice.

The upsides are obvious. First and foremost, productivity. With 69 days in the bank and a minimum of 1,000 words each day, I’m well on my way to a first draft of my book. Had I not started this challenge, I’d probably be thinking and making notes and occasionally jotting down a page or two.

If I were working in this fashion, it’s likely most of the book would never come to be, because this practice is keeping the story in my mind so that my subconscious is working even when I’m doing other things. This, I think, is an even bigger benefit of a daily writing practice. For example, last evening as I was coming home from the fish market, a snippet of dialogue occurred to me. Since I was on the highway and couldn’t stop to write it down, I recorded a voice memo on my phone. Later, when I wrote it in my purple notebook, it was almost new to me—proof that if I hadn’t recorded it, I’d have forgotten it.

Another upside is it provides structure not only for my creative practice, but for my day. Because I need to do this work, I make a point of scheduling around it. I’m out of the office by eight o’clock so that dinner is done by nine-thirty so I can settle into the recliner with my Surface and Charlotte around 9:45. This enables me to be done well in advance of the 11:00 news. If I didn’t have this habit, I’d likely putter and waste time. This practice keeps me in line.

As noted, though, it has downsides. Looking around me, I see the most obvious: household chores have definitely suffered. Not that I’m the Queen of Housekeeping on my best days, but where I might have vacuumed or cleaned the bathroom after dinner (okay, not often, but sometimes), now I push those chores off to the weekend. On a day like today, when I had a book event down on the shoreline that consumed most of the day, the upshot was that nearly no housework has been done. I actually had thoughts as I pulled into the driveway that I might unload the car and mow the lawn, but such notions quickly gave way to a two-hour nap. Practically all I’ve accomplished has been folding laundry that’s been on the drying racks in the basement since Monday. Since tomorrow is a busy Sunday (ushering at church in the morning, working in the afternoon, and Mom-care in the evening), the only housework that will be done this weekend are emptying and refilling the dishwasher and scooping the litter boxes, and that’s fine with me.

Another downside is that I’ve been less inclined to call friends. I can’t really call before my writing time, because there simply isn’t time. After writing, I’m too tired to start a conversation. (Luckily, most of the people I’d call live in western time zones, so my 11:00 is their 10:00 or earlier.) With any luck, once the major work projects are off my desk, I can work out a few phone visits.

With my present schedule, I think I finally truly understand what people mean when they talk about someone getting set in their ways. It’s not as though I haven’t flexed my writing schedule when the need has arisen—when I went on the Bible study retreat, I did my writing when I got back to my room. But with barely a month to go in this challenge, I’m reluctant to mess with the practice that has worked so well for me. I’d rather schedule social events and interactions around the writing than risk missing a day.

Plus, doing the writing simply feels good. Even on days when I’m underwhelmed by the scenes I’ve produced, there’s a sense of accomplishment for having done it at all, much less consistently.

Here’s the biggest secret of all: “1,000 words” sounds like a much bigger deal than it actually is. People (especially non-writers) tend to be impressed when you say you’re writing 1,000 words a day, but the reality is that 1,000 words is about four double-spaced pages. Not a big deal at all. Mind you, I’m talking about 1,000 first-draft words, which is what I’m doing, so if I use the word “retroactive” in two consecutive sentences, that’s fine, because I already know I’ll be back for revisions. In a first draft, the point is just to get the story on the page.

So 1,000 first-draft words aren’t a big deal. A thousand polished words, on the other hand—now that’s a big deal. A thousand words that have been edited, refined, reevaluated, and tested not only for content, but for their sound, their poetry, their magic. That is going to be a much more difficult challenge.

With any luck, by that time, lawn mowing season will be over.