How to Get Your Butt in the Chair and Build a Writing Practice

Writing a book takes a long time. It’s a huge commitment.

That’s possibly why so many people I meet who tell me they want to write a book never even get started. Or maybe they get started but they don’t stick with it. (They’d be joining about 97 percent of people who start a book, according to some statistics.)

The most important things we can do to write a book is do the actual work. Get your butt in the chair or stand at your computer and write.

This isn’t original advice. I’m not the first to say it. I read it in a book about writing, though I can’t remember exactly which one (probably all of them). In my search to find the origin of how this advice came into my life, though, I did stumble across a Stephen King quote that I highlighted, underlined and starred to death:

“Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.”

That’s it. Essay done.

There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there? It’s easier said than done. Writers are notorious for making simple things more complicated (or maybe that’s just me).

Time to write can feel really hard to find. When I was first starting out as a serious writer, I’d just had my sixth baby. I also had twin 2-year-olds, a 4-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a 7-year-old. Time? I had no idea where to find that or if I ever would. But I’d also just been laid off from a job that made me miserable, and this was my chance. So every night, without fail, I took out a notebook and wrote.

It took me a year to get that first book written. But after working every single day, whether I felt like it or not, I had a book. A very messy but complete book. You can’t revise what doesn’t exist, I told myself when the doubts crept in mid-writing session. Just keep going.

Writers often ask me how I get so much done. How I write so many books. Well, I do the work. I work really hard at the work. I schedule writing sessions, and I write. And sometimes that writing is terrible, and sometimes it’s almost great. Sometimes it’s a little of both. I just keep moving forward, regardless of how the session is going at that point in time.

And there’s a hint in my process: I schedule my writing sessions. I realize not everyone works well with a schedule—but it does help develop a habit. My kids now know what time I write, and they know not to disturb me during a writing session unless it’s an emergency (and we’ve had multiple conversations about what constitutes an emergency, trust me; no, it is not an emergency that someone lost his favorite Pokémon card).

At the heart of it, writing a book comes down to dedication. We make time for what’s important to us. Is writing important? Then we find time to do it.

Something hard like writing a book, which demands a lot of time and energy, requires discipline. Doing the work.

Recently my husband asked me if I wanted to join his band. We used to play in a band together, back when we were first married and up until the time we had our third child and balancing tours and playing gigs became a little too much to manage. Since our sons are older now, he’s been getting back out there and playing again. He needs a bass player.

My answer? It depends. I won’t let it cut into or replace my writing time, even though I love music. Writing is too important now, and I know the value of doing the work.

Those are the decisions we have to weigh and make. We have to protect what writing time we have—however little it is—and get our butts in the chair.

So how do we get our butts in the chair?

First, have a chair.

That is, have a space—a room, a chair, a corner, a cloffice…have a dedicated space where you can exercise your creativity. When we carve out a space, what we do in that space takes on a significance. Like Virginia Woolf says, we need a room of our own—however metaphorical that room is.

We carve out a physical space so we can carve out the emotional space for writing.

Write on some kind of schedule.

If you don’t like writing at the same time every day, make your schedule a daily time goal: I will write for half an hour every day. Or I will write for an hour every day. And then squeeze in that time wherever you can find it. Fifteen minutes a day is still writing practice.

Make a commitment to show up every day in some way.

You’re building a habit. So make it a habit. Showing up signals to your brain that you care about what you’re doing. Even if it’s not actual writing (I take weekends off with my kids), you can still do something. Read a book you consider a mentor text, collect a conversation you felt was interesting, write some notes for a new piece you’d like to try.

Develop a ritual around your writing sessions.

I love rituals. We have several rituals in my house, so it’s no surprise that when I was developing my writing habit I also ritualized my writing sessions.

I don’t write until I’ve first surrounded myself with a mug of peppermint green tea, a flask of cinnamon tea, another flask of hibiscus or orange spice tea and another of lemon ginger tea (yes, I love tea). And then I put on my noise-canceling headphones and slip into my world.

Develop a ritual around your writing. Listen to music, a particular playlist you only use for writing, or burn a candle with a special scent or open all the windows and let the light in or invite your cat to join you so you’re not alone.

Neuroscience says this is one of the ways you can drop into flow quicker. Make your space feel like something special is happening—because it is.

Choose writing that gets you excited to be in the chair.

You can have all the discipline in the world, but if you don’t like what you’re writing—or if you don’t like writing in the first place—you likely won’t stick with the habit for long, unless you like torture.

So find something you’re excited to write about and let that excitement bring you back again and again to the chair.

Remember today’s writing is not yesterday’s writing.

Inevitably, when you’re writing every day, in some way, you will have a less-than-wonderful writing day (probably plenty of them) where writing feels extremely difficult or not very pleasurable or you just think everything you set down on paper is terrible. You may not feel like writing today, which means your writing might not be as good as you’d like it to be, or you just don’t get many words.

It won’t always be this way. Writing won’t always be hard and bad. And, on the other side, it won’t always be easy or good. We’re here for it all. Tomorrow’s a new day. There’s always hope in that.

Be patient.

When we’re doing the work of writing, it’s vital to remember that writing a book can sometimes take years. Don’t get discouraged, and don’t rush the process. Keep showing up, and document your progress. I’ve been taking pictures of all the pens I use up (because I write all my first drafts by hand). At the end of every month, I take a picture of a basket where I collect the used-up pens. It reminds me that I’m showing up and doing the work.

A friend of mine documents how many words she writes every day. Another friend records how much time she spends writing every day. Find some way to document your progress. Collect the proof of your work.

Reward yourself for your hard work.

Rewarding yourself for consistently getting your butt in the chair can keep you motivated. You’re building a habit and activating the powerful reward center of your brain and giving it a reason to say, That was fun, let’s do it again.

Watch a couple episodes of a new show for a week of consistent writing. At a month, buy yourself a fun gift. Keep a list of your planned rewards and follow through on them. Writing practice is worth celebrating.

End your writing sessions with gratitude.

Gratitude is, according to neuroscience, a right brain activity, which cultivates creativity. Shifting our mindsets to “This is something I get to do, not something I have to do” can be a powerful shift that can change everything.

When we’re grateful for the time we get writing, that time feels much more expansive. Our brains will show up and create.

Don’t be too hard on yourself.

If you miss a day or two of writing, that’s okay. It’s not easy to build a habit, and they’re very easy to break in the beginning (at least the good ones are). Let yourself breathe. Give yourself time to settle into the habit.

Allow yourself room to play.

Chase ridiculous ideas. Write a throwaway character rant. Play around with a new viewpoint.

If we only focus on productivity and efficiency, we will burn ourselves out. Make sure you’re also having fun.

And remember there’s room for bad writing.

I’ve found myself lately reminding my writer friends of that early mantra of mine, which happens to also be one of my most frequently repeated mantras: You can’t revise what doesn’t exist. Getting something down is better than getting nothing down.

And the way we can make sure we’re getting something down is to make it a habit and get ourselves in that metaphorical chair as often as we possibly can. Practice makes progress. One chapter, one page, one word at a time.

What are some ways you get your butt in the chair? What does your “chair” look like? How do you make sure you carve out space for a writing habit?

Rachel Toalson

Rachel Toalson writes lots of books. For lots of people–kids, teens, adults, fiction lovers, poetry lovers, essay lovers. People who adore realistic stories or magical realism or fantasy or tales that keep them up at night or make them laugh out loud. She writes the books she most wants to read, which is the best way to entertain herself and her kids and get a little peace and quiet in her excessively loud home. She’s the author of the middle grade books, The Colors of the Rain, which won the Arnold Adoff Poetry Honor Award in 2018, The Woods, and The First Magnificent Summer, among many others. She lives in San Antonio, Texas, with her husband and six children.

www.racheltoalson.com/