Writing Routines - Crafting the one that suits you best

This post was part of my April 2026 e-newsletter. Subscribe to my newsletter to receive monthly writing tips and first dibs on my writing workshops.

While teaching a workshop last weekend I said offhandedly, “I’m not particularly talented. I’m just dogged,” and everyone laughed. Why laugh? It’s true! I’ve written nearly every day for decades. In the beginning, my work wasn’t terrific. It took me ages to find my voice and path, to decide what and how I’ll write. I wasn’t spoiled by early, runaway bestsellers. I still get rejections every week. And every week, I send pieces out to more editors. Sometimes it pays off.

James Baldwin said, “Talent is insignificant. I know a lot of talented ruins. Beyond talent lie all the usual words: discipline, love, luck, but most of all, endurance.”

Endurance—working consistently, with vision and determination, no matter the obstacles—counts for much more than talent or an understanding of craft when it comes to writing success.

Endurance is bolstered by routine. But what kind of routine is best?

Descriptions of famous authors’ writing habits abound on the internet. You’ll find a variety of perspectives in The Paris Review interviews, for example.

Many writers begin work before sunrise. Haruki Murakami said of his daily routine of waking early, writing, running, reading, then getting to bed early: “The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind.” Other writers, including Sylvia Plath and Pablo Neruda, preferred to write at night.

Conducive environments also vary. Toni Morrison, who once rented a hotel room as her writing space for months, advised her students to “ask themselves, ‘What does the ideal room look like? Is there music? Is there silence? Is there chaos outside or is there serenity outside? What do I need in order to release my imagination?’”

It’s worth identifying your personal writing approach as you seek to increase your output or plunge into a new writing project. Some questions to answer:

• What does it mean to you to be consistent in your writing? We often think of consistency in terms of time and repetition, for example, “I’ll write for 15 minutes every morning” or “one page per day.” But in addition to quantitative measures, it could include qualitative aspects, as in, “Every time I show up to write, I’ll approach my work with unconditional friendliness” or “Even if I don’t feel like writing, I’ll try.” Repetition can be boring. Know yourself. If you can’t bear a certain kind of repetitiveness, build flexibility into your definition of consistency.
• What obstacles will arise when you try to meet your consistent writing goal? Can you anticipate an endless to-do list that makes writing time hard to find? Will others make impromptu demands on your time? (Fact: virtually no one in your life will suggest that you spend the day writing instead of making them a meal, attending their party, watching Netflix, or joining them at a concert.) Will you likely be distracted by social media, emails, or texts? Will it be difficult to sit still for long periods?
• How will you overcome those obstacles? If finding time to write is an obstacle, for example, could you make an appointment, with a reminder, on your calendar? If prioritizing writing is an obstacle, could you create a contract with a writing partner, promising to report on your writing success by the end of the day? If focusing is difficult, could you adjust your environment—turn off your Wi-Fi, silence your phone, etc.? Or would it help to signal that it’s time to write with a small ritual, such as lighting a candle, making a cup of a certain type of tea, or simply closing a (physical) door to the outside world?

Anticipating the obstacles, planning to overcome them, and testing your plans will help you develop a solid routine.

My writing routine means getting to my desk at around 5 a.m., when the world is still quiet. For at least fifteen minutes, I write in a journal about the day before, aiming to capture the sensory details (dozens of pelicans floating on a pond next to the highway, the sweet mash of a doughnut hole in my mouth). Doing this is like playing scales on an instrument. I warm up. I practice my skills. Then I turn to my current work-in-progress. After three or four hours, I stop to exercise and then eat lunch. Afternoons, I work on tasks that require less imagination, such as editing, correspondence, and planning. Not every day proceeds perfectly. But when I’m prevented from following my routine, I feel off-kilter.

Wishing you a solid routine and much joy in the writing.