Changing Routine
Ok, seriously? You still haven’t bought a copy of Katya Noskov’s Last Shot? I’ve been working hard to get this book into the hands of readers everywhere because I believe in this story with all my heart. I mean, who wouldn’t love to read about a retired assassin with zero genuine social skills fumbling her way through friendship?
Take it from award-winning mystery writer, Marcelle Dubé, who wrote a lovely review.
Good morning, friend.
Since 2017, I have been waking up at 5AM to sit with my laptop and write. I had many writing friends—virtually—who also wrote early. We greeted each other in the #5AMWritersClub over on what used to be Twitter. The early hour was a peaceful and focussed time. In the winter, I awoke into darkness and set a fire going in our fireplace. In the summer, I was up with the sun, opening the door to our backyard so I could hear the birds.
For seven years, I’ve been luxuriously working on books between the hours of 5am-8am with some sessions shorter and others longer. This is the time when I am at my most creative and I can relax into the work.
But over the last few months, something has changed. I’ve been struggling to be productive that early in the morning. I’ve been having a hard time getting words down. I spend my early mornings scrolling socials, searching the internet for book marketing tips, or listening to audiobooks.
I was starting to think I had lost my desire—or god forbid, my skill—for crafting stories. The memoir I started in May of 2023 was abandoned, as was the novel I started writing in May of 2024.
As I was beating myself up for not writing, a curious thought crept into my brain. What if the morning routine needed to change and I should be writing in the afternoon? Or later in the morning? Or, shudder, in the evening?
I had nothing to lose by trying. One afternoon, after my client work was done and delivered, I decided to open up the manuscript I had last worked on and see what happens. I wish I could say I experienced a remarkable burst of creativity, but that did not happen at all. I squeezed out 153 words. I tried again on a different day, but later morning this time. The result was a bit better. I didn’t even try an evening writing session. By the end of the day, I wanted to settle on the couch and read someone else’s words.
I abandoned the manuscript again when I was busy getting Katya Noskov ready for publication. Between cover design, layout, final edits, and marketing, I had nothing left for writing a novel. I was okay with this; to me, doing anything writing-related still counts as writing work.
Once Katya was out in the world, I needed to get intimate with my writing again. At the end of November, I set myself a goal to finish the year with 17,000 words in that novel. At the time, I was sitting at 6,000 words. It wasn’t an overwhelming goal, but I was still in excruciating pain from my pinched nerve, in denial about how serious it was and how it would impact me. No writing was happening.
When I started feeling better at the end of the third week of December—the 20th—I challenged myself to hit that goal. I had 11 days to get there. One thousand words per day. My creative brain may not work with time constraints but holy moly, does it ever respond to a specific number. I dug in my heels and started writing again, at various times of the day. I had to get 1,000 words done daily. For the last eight days, I’ve hit that goal. Some days I have written half in the morning and half in the afternoon. I’ve picked blocks of time in my day to pound the keyboard until I hit that goal. It’s like I’m in training, getting back into the habit of writing.
As of this morning, with three days left in the year, I am past 14,000 words.
To be fair, they aren’t all good words. This is a first draft, after all.
Happy New Year, friend.
xo Dana
What I’m reading
I’m still reading Brandon Sanderson’s Elantris, but during a holiday-time fit of cleaning up my office and digging out some books hidden in a cabinet, I came across my copy of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic. I read it back in 2017 and it moved me forward to a new burst of creativity.
It might be time to re-read it. I flipped the pages and came across some words that lit me up.
“The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them. The hunt to discover those jewels––that's creative living.”
“But inspiration is still sitting there right beside me, and it is trying. Inspiration is trying to send me messages in every form it can—through dreams, through portents, through clues, through coincidences, through déjà vu, through kismet, through surprising waves of attraction and reaction, through the chills that run up my arms, through the hair that stands up on the back of my neck, through the pleasure of something new and surprising, through stubborn ideas that keep me awake all night long . . . whatever works. Inspiration is always trying to work with me.”
I have noticed there is nothing in there about getting up at 5am to write.