Writing Sprints

Today I am doing writing sprints to get my word count in for the day.

What are writing sprints?

Writing sprints are when you take a big chunk of time, ie: your writing time for the day, and you split it up into writing time and resting time, so that you get stuff done but you also don't burn yourself out or stress yourself out.

For me, today, this looks like 15 minutes writing followed by 15 minutes resting. You can write or rest for longer or shorter, depending on how you're feeling. The only rule is that you make the rules.

(If this sounds a lot like the Pomodoro Technique, you're not wrong! It's pulled directly from that, probably!)

Writing sprints are probably one of the best tools in my writer toolbox. Also, I think, the most intimidating, for me. Because what do you mean you just sit down and write for fifteen minutes, without stopping? Do you know what kind of crap I can come up with in fifteen minutes of writing without stopping?

One of the things that has tangled me up this year is this weird sort of stuck headspace, where I'll spend hours going over and over and over one chapter, one scene, without moving on. I know better. And still I get caught in this endless loop.

Writing sprints are what help me move forward in times like this, without too much mental frustration. Fifteen minutes on new things, and then I can fret over the old words for a bit. Then fifteen more minutes on new words... And so on.

Therapy has taught me over the years that when your mind gets "stuck" or "hooked" on certain things, it's likely for a very good reason, usually to protect you from something, even if that something or its methods don't make sense. It would be easy for me to say, "Going over old words is a stupid, useless, waste of my time, so I just stopped doing it!" But the reality is, it's likely a manifestation of something much greater, like anxiety, which isn't so easy to quell. So I just roll with it, and try to find a happy medium in the meantime.

Another thing that has been really helpful is to remind myself that every book I've ever finished, every book I've ever loved, every book I've ever submitted, every book that's ever been accepted, every book that's ever been anything has been written sloppily, in little bursts at a time.

Every. Single. One.

So my anxiety over the clean-up process--whether I can do it, whether it will be too hard, whether future me will be capable--is fear-based, not fact-based.

I can do hard things, because I have done hard things.

P.S.: If you would like to join me in writing sprints, beginning Thursday, December 28, 2023, 9PM-11PM EST, I'll post threads here and on Threads and Instagram where you can join in weekly!

How To Keep Writing When Disaster Looms

Reset and recalibrate. I made a smart move at the start of the year by taking what I thought I could do 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: You can always keep going. You 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’ll fail most of the time. For starters, I can’t write 1,000 words in an hour. I’m more 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 rather 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 right now, that’s been however many words I can scrape out of 5 minutes. (Remember, you can always keep going, you can always do more. But if I’ve put in my 5 minutes, I’ve done what I asked of myself, even if I spend the rest of the day screaming into the void.)

Effort counts. Some days those 5 minutes are spent staring at the 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 form with which I track my writing sprints. The form is connected to a spreadsheet that automatically pulls things like words written and time spent writing, but also measures other metrics, like which days and 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, libarary, hospital, etc), and which tools I’m using (Scrivener, Word, candle, music). I’ve recently even added a mood tracker (turns out I always think I suck about 80% through 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 writing session. The best part: the spreadsheet collects the data automatically, so I don’t have to look at it until I’m mentally prepared to do so.

Stop using fun as a reward for working yourself to death. I used to use Cinderella logic on myself, where I was like, “OK, if I will do this thing, but only after I do this impossible amount of work first.” And then walk around for 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. Clean off your desk. Take out the trash. Unfuck your habitat. Believe me, no words you write when you feel shitty or exhausted are going to be worth suffering for.