Reset and recalibrate.
I made a smart move at the start of the year by taking what I thought I could accomplish in 2020 and cutting it in half.
I did this again at the start of March. So now my yearly goal is 25% of what I wanted it to be.
There’s always the thought process playing in the back of my ambitious, over-achieving mind that slashing a goal to 25% is not good enough, not words enough, not impressive enough.
And to that voice, I say: I can always keep going. I can always do more.
But it’s also important that I know it’s OK if I don’t.
Set bite-sized, achievable goals.
1,000 words in an hour every day is an admirable goal. But it’s one I will fail most of the time.
For starters, I can’t write 1,000 words in an hour. I’m more of a 700-words-an-hour kind of girl.
(Or more accurately, a 200-ish words in 20 minutes kind of girl.)
I’m also more of a “most days” kind of girl than an “every day” kind of girl.
And that’s when I’m not ill or covered up with work or there’s a global pandemic at large.
Bite-sized goals will look different for everybody, but for me, especially now, that’s been however many words I can scrape out of five minutes.
(Remember: you can always keep going, you can always do more.)
But if I’ve put in my five minutes, I’ve done what I’ve asked of myself, even if I spend the rest of the day screaming into the void.
Effort counts.
Some days those five minutes are spent staring at a blank page. But it still counts, because at least I opened the Word document when I didn’t want to. At least I showed up.
Don’t discount the simple act of showing up.
Reading counts, too.
When I’m not in the headspace to write new words, it’s usually because I need to consume new words. Old words. Audiobook words. Blog words. Just words in general.
So I try to do a lot of that, too.
Track your progress.
I love data and find it immensely helpful. But tracking things in real-time is hard because I’m super critical of my own accomplishments.
A happy compromise has been to create a Google sheet that tracks my writing automatically.
The sheet automatically tracks things like words written and time spent writing, but also measures other metrics, like which days and what times of day I’m most productive (so I can protect them and better utilize them); which project I’m working on and where in the pipeline it falls (drafting, editing, etc); where I’m writing (office, bedroom, outside, or pre-pandemic, Starbucks, library, hospital); and which tools I’m using (Scrivener, Word, Google Docs, but also candles, music).
I’ve recently added a mood tracker (turns out I always think I suck about 80% into a draft. Who knew?) and a comment box where I can make notes of what worked and what didn’t and what I could do better next time.
The best part: the spreadsheet tracks it all automatically, so I get the data without alerting my inner critic.
Stop using fun as a reward for working yourself to death.
I used to use Cinderella logic on myself, where I was like, “OK, I will do this fun thing, but only after I do this impossible amount of work first.”
And then I would walk around with six months having zero fun because I hadn’t earned any fun.
Now I pencil in fun the way I pencil in writing.
Sure there are times I have to factor in that I have a deadline coming and a ton of work to do, and maybe I can’t binge a show or play a game for three days straight that week. But even then I can carve out a little time that isn’t just work work work.
Everybody needs a day off.
“Writers write every day” is not only bullshit advice, but for me it has the tendency to really throw off my writing groove.
Since I moved to a four-day work week (two days writing, one day off, two days writing, two days off), I feel like I’ve made better writing decisions, had better-feeling writing days, and backtracked less often.
It’s also nice to have at least one day a week that is free from day job stress as well as writing stress, a day to just veg out and do what the hell ever.
And finally:
Don’t skimp on self-care.
Take a shower when you feel gross. Nap when you’re tired. Know your warning signs.
Too tired or depressed to cook and clean? Move to disposable dishes and cutlery, order take-out, and stock your pantry with non-perishable go-tos.
Make your bed. Clear your desk. Take out the trash. Unfuck your habitat.
Believe me, no words written when you feel shitty or exhausted are going to be worth suffering for.
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