Tag: Books

What I learned about writing – Poetry – or my thoughts on it

I have often wondered what the interest in poetry is because I have read those same poems that people wax lyrical about, and they just don’t have the same effect.

But…

Then I did some digging…

Poetry requires words written in lines for a specified number of lines about almost anything.

Two, three, four, five lines, and more.

Words that rhyme, words that do not, there are rules and types, and then there is not.

It encompasses anything and everything. It can read at a fast or slow pace, professing undying love or utter hatred, and can describe something familiarly or make the familiar sound like something else.

Objects become feelings, and feelings become objects.

Some poets are famous; there are poets we like and poets we hate.  Some poets are just there.  There are poets we should read and poets we shouldn’t, though why is anyone’s guess.

There are poets we know, not because we have read them but because they are in the collective consciousness, poets like Burns, W B Yeats, Walter Whitman, Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson.

I even know them because people who are in the TV shows and movies are always reciting them.

Perhaps I appreciate poetry more than I care to admit.

In writing this and taking a deep dive into the world of poems and what it is all about, I have come across some rather meaningful poetry.

Perhaps I might find one that encapsulates my life and ask for it to be read at my funeral.  At the very least, the attendees will be utterly surprised. 

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 128

Day 128 – A Thousand words a day

…

Beyond the Grind: Why Writing 1,000 Words a Day is Your Greatest Asset

In the modern world of “hustle culture,” we are constantly bombarded with advice on how to optimise every second of our lives. It’s easy to get cynical about productivity. We’re told to wake up at 4:00 a.m., take ice baths, and track our output down to the millisecond.

Let’s be clear: productivity isn’t everything. Your worth as a human being is not tied to your daily tax output or the number of rows in your spreadsheet. If you neglect your health, your relationships, and your peace of mind in the name of output, you’ve missed the point of living.

However, productivity is important. It is the bridge between having a dream and holding a finished product. For writers, designers, and creators, the gap between “I have an idea” and “I have a career” is filled with consistent, disciplined work.

If you want to sharpen your craft, there is one rule of thumb that stands above the rest: write a thousand words a day.

The Arithmetic of Ambition

A thousand words might sound like a lot, especially when you’re staring at a blinking cursor on a blank screen. But let’s look at the numbers. If you write 1,000 words a day, you are producing 7,000 words a week. By the end of a month, you have a 30,000-word manuscript. In three months, you have a book.

The math is undeniable, but it isn’t just about the volume. It’s about the compounding interest of skill.

Writing is a Muscle

There is a common misconception that writing is a magical act of inspiration that strikes only when the muses are aligned. Professional writers know better: writing is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets.

When you commit to writing 1,000 words daily, you aren’t just filling pages; you are refining your voice. You learn how to cut the fluff. You learn how to structure an argument, how to build suspense, and how to transition between thoughts.

The more you write, the better you get. But there is a secondary benefit that is arguably even more practical: the more you write, the more you have to publish.

The “Publishing Paradox”

Many aspiring writers spend years—or even decades—polishing the same fifty pages. They are terrified of hitting “publish” because they feel their work isn’t “perfect” yet.

Here is the secret: perfection is the enemy of progress. If you are writing 1,000 words a day, you stop obsessing over every single syllable because you have another 1,000 words to write tomorrow. You become comfortable with the idea of a “first draft.” By creating a high volume of work, you give yourself the freedom to experiment. You’ll find that your best ideas often come from the quantity, not the agonising deliberation of a single sentence.

Furthermore, having a backlog of content gives you the leverage to build an audience. In the digital age, visibility is currency. If you have nothing to publish, you have no presence. If you write 1,000 words a day, you have a constant stream of content to share, iterate on, and refine.

Is it Daunting? Maybe.

It is perfectly natural to feel intimidated by the idea of writing a thousand words every single day. Some days, your brain will feel like a dry well. Other days, life will get in the way.

But here is the truth that sets you free: anyone can write a thousand words a day.

It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. It doesn’t have to be published in The New York Times. Sometimes, those 1,000 words will be trash. Sometimes, they will be the best things you’ve ever written. The magic isn’t in the quality of the words you write today; it’s in the habit of showing up.

How to Start

If you want to make this a reality, stop aiming for “greatness” and start aiming for “completion.”

  1. Set a timer: Give yourself an hour. If you don’t hit 1,000, don’t sweat it—just keep going tomorrow.
  2. Eliminate distractions: Close your email, put your phone in another room, and silence your notifications.
  3. Embrace the “Bad” Draft: Give yourself permission to write poorly. You can’t edit a blank page, but you can always fix a bad paragraph.

Productivity is a tool, not a lifestyle. Use it to build the life you want, one thousand words at a time. Your future self will thank you for the progress you made today.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 128

Day 128 – A Thousand words a day

…

Beyond the Grind: Why Writing 1,000 Words a Day is Your Greatest Asset

In the modern world of “hustle culture,” we are constantly bombarded with advice on how to optimise every second of our lives. It’s easy to get cynical about productivity. We’re told to wake up at 4:00 a.m., take ice baths, and track our output down to the millisecond.

Let’s be clear: productivity isn’t everything. Your worth as a human being is not tied to your daily tax output or the number of rows in your spreadsheet. If you neglect your health, your relationships, and your peace of mind in the name of output, you’ve missed the point of living.

However, productivity is important. It is the bridge between having a dream and holding a finished product. For writers, designers, and creators, the gap between “I have an idea” and “I have a career” is filled with consistent, disciplined work.

If you want to sharpen your craft, there is one rule of thumb that stands above the rest: write a thousand words a day.

The Arithmetic of Ambition

A thousand words might sound like a lot, especially when you’re staring at a blinking cursor on a blank screen. But let’s look at the numbers. If you write 1,000 words a day, you are producing 7,000 words a week. By the end of a month, you have a 30,000-word manuscript. In three months, you have a book.

The math is undeniable, but it isn’t just about the volume. It’s about the compounding interest of skill.

Writing is a Muscle

There is a common misconception that writing is a magical act of inspiration that strikes only when the muses are aligned. Professional writers know better: writing is a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets.

When you commit to writing 1,000 words daily, you aren’t just filling pages; you are refining your voice. You learn how to cut the fluff. You learn how to structure an argument, how to build suspense, and how to transition between thoughts.

The more you write, the better you get. But there is a secondary benefit that is arguably even more practical: the more you write, the more you have to publish.

The “Publishing Paradox”

Many aspiring writers spend years—or even decades—polishing the same fifty pages. They are terrified of hitting “publish” because they feel their work isn’t “perfect” yet.

Here is the secret: perfection is the enemy of progress. If you are writing 1,000 words a day, you stop obsessing over every single syllable because you have another 1,000 words to write tomorrow. You become comfortable with the idea of a “first draft.” By creating a high volume of work, you give yourself the freedom to experiment. You’ll find that your best ideas often come from the quantity, not the agonising deliberation of a single sentence.

Furthermore, having a backlog of content gives you the leverage to build an audience. In the digital age, visibility is currency. If you have nothing to publish, you have no presence. If you write 1,000 words a day, you have a constant stream of content to share, iterate on, and refine.

Is it Daunting? Maybe.

It is perfectly natural to feel intimidated by the idea of writing a thousand words every single day. Some days, your brain will feel like a dry well. Other days, life will get in the way.

But here is the truth that sets you free: anyone can write a thousand words a day.

It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece. It doesn’t have to be published in The New York Times. Sometimes, those 1,000 words will be trash. Sometimes, they will be the best things you’ve ever written. The magic isn’t in the quality of the words you write today; it’s in the habit of showing up.

How to Start

If you want to make this a reality, stop aiming for “greatness” and start aiming for “completion.”

  1. Set a timer: Give yourself an hour. If you don’t hit 1,000, don’t sweat it—just keep going tomorrow.
  2. Eliminate distractions: Close your email, put your phone in another room, and silence your notifications.
  3. Embrace the “Bad” Draft: Give yourself permission to write poorly. You can’t edit a blank page, but you can always fix a bad paragraph.

Productivity is a tool, not a lifestyle. Use it to build the life you want, one thousand words at a time. Your future self will thank you for the progress you made today.

What I learned about writing – You should write, first of all, to please yourself.

OK. Then, writing can’t be a way of life; the important part of writing is living. OK. And lastly, you have to live in such a way that your writing emerges from it.

Wow!

How do you make sense of that?

…

Perhaps somebody else has worked out what this conundrum means.

I’ve been trawling the endless collection of Twitter descriptions provided by my fellow writers, noting that there used to be a restriction of 140 characters.

How do you sum yourself and/or your life in 140 characters, or even 280?

I started out with a few catchphrases, something that would draw followers. I’m thinking the word ‘aspiring’ will be my catchphrase. But how will my writing encapsulate that? It needs a little qualification or substance.

I’m aspiring to be a writer, or is that author?  Is there a difference? Is there a guide to what I can call myself?

My life, quite simply put, but in more than 140 characters, is married happily, has two wonderful children, three amazing grandchildren, and a wealth of experience acquired over the years in parenting and surviving in a world that isn’t easy to live in.

To be honest, I don’t think anyone would be interested in any story based on those precepts. Actually, that sounds rather boring, doesn’t it?

Maybe it would be better if I were a retired policeman, or a retired lawyer, or a retired sheriff, or a retired private investigator, or a retired doctor, someone who had an occupation that was a rich mine of information from which to draw upon.

Retired computer programmers, supermarket shelf stackers, night cleaners, accounts clerks and general dogsbodies don’t quite cut the mustard. Should we try to embellish our personal history to make it more appealing?

It’s much the same as writing about daily life.  No one wants to read about it; people want to be taken out of the humdrum of normalcy and be taken into a world where they can become the character in the book.

And there you have it, in a nutshell, why I write.

I want to escape the mundanity of everyday life and become something, someone else, and, with a little luck, you, the reader, will come along for the roller coaster ride with me.

Or come out of retirement, join a secret intelligence agency and go and save the world.

Then write about it.

Then I’ll be living in such a way that my writing will emerge from it.

Yet…

Death and mayhem sound so much better in my head than in reality.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 127

Day 127 – Stop waiting to write

…

The Myth of the Perfect Moment: Why You Should Stop Waiting to Write

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a work on paper.” — E.B. White

We’ve all been there. You have the laptop open, a fresh cup of coffee, and a quiet house. But then, the lighting isn’t quite right. Or you’re feeling a bit sluggish. Or perhaps you’re waiting for that “divine spark” of inspiration that feels like it’s perpetually stuck in traffic.

We tell ourselves that we are just preserving our creative energy for a moment where we can be our “best selves.” But as E.B. White famously pointed out, that elusive “ideal condition” is a trap. If you wait for the stars to align, you’ll be waiting forever.

The Perfectionism Paradox

The desire for the perfect environment is rarely about comfort; it’s about fear. Writing is an act of vulnerability. When we wait for the perfect conditions, we are engaging in a subtle form of procrastination. By convincing ourselves that we can’t write because the conditions aren’t right, we protect ourselves from the possibility of writing something bad.

But here is the truth that every professional writer discovers eventually: The work is not found in the perfect moment; it is found in the discipline of the messy, imperfect ones.

The Reality of the “Working” Writer

If you look at the history of literature, you’ll find that the greatest works were rarely written in ivory towers or secluded, idyllic retreats.

  • Maya Angelou famously rented cheap hotel rooms to force herself to focus, often stripping the rooms of any distractions to face the blank page.
  • Franz Kafka wrote late at night, exhausted after his day job at an insurance company.
  • Countless parents have written their masterpieces in fifteen-minute increments during nap times or at kitchen tables while dinner bubbled on the stove.

These writers didn’t wait for the world to stop spinning so they could write. They carved out space within a spinning world. They understood that writing is labour, not a luxury.

How to Kill the “Ideal Conditions” Habit

If you find yourself paralysed by the need for perfection, it’s time to break the cycle. Here are three ways to stop waiting and start creating:

1. Lower the Bar: Give yourself permission to write “badly.” The goal of a first draft isn’t to be brilliant; it’s to exist. You can’t edit a blank page, but you can always fix a draft that is already written.

2. Create Rituals, Not Requirements. Instead of needing total silence, perfect temperature, and a specific mood, build a “trigger” that tells your brain it’s time to work. It could be putting on a specific pair of noise-cancelling headphones or playing the same three songs on repeat. These rituals are portable; you can take them anywhere.

3. Embrace the “Micro-Session” Stop waiting for a four-hour block of uninterrupted time. If you have ten minutes before a meeting or while waiting for a laundry cycle to finish, write. Those small pockets of time add up to pages, and pages add up to a book.

The Bottom Line

E.B. White’s warning is a call to arms for every aspiring creator. Your life is not going to pause to accommodate your art. Silence will be broken by sirens; inspiration will be interrupted by laundry; your mood will fluctuate from high to low.

The “ideal conditions” you are waiting for are a ghost. Don’t let your legacy be a pile of unwritten ideas. Write now, write messy, and write anyway. The world doesn’t need your perfection; it needs your voice.

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 127

Day 127 – Stop waiting to write

…

The Myth of the Perfect Moment: Why You Should Stop Waiting to Write

“A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a work on paper.” — E.B. White

We’ve all been there. You have the laptop open, a fresh cup of coffee, and a quiet house. But then, the lighting isn’t quite right. Or you’re feeling a bit sluggish. Or perhaps you’re waiting for that “divine spark” of inspiration that feels like it’s perpetually stuck in traffic.

We tell ourselves that we are just preserving our creative energy for a moment where we can be our “best selves.” But as E.B. White famously pointed out, that elusive “ideal condition” is a trap. If you wait for the stars to align, you’ll be waiting forever.

The Perfectionism Paradox

The desire for the perfect environment is rarely about comfort; it’s about fear. Writing is an act of vulnerability. When we wait for the perfect conditions, we are engaging in a subtle form of procrastination. By convincing ourselves that we can’t write because the conditions aren’t right, we protect ourselves from the possibility of writing something bad.

But here is the truth that every professional writer discovers eventually: The work is not found in the perfect moment; it is found in the discipline of the messy, imperfect ones.

The Reality of the “Working” Writer

If you look at the history of literature, you’ll find that the greatest works were rarely written in ivory towers or secluded, idyllic retreats.

  • Maya Angelou famously rented cheap hotel rooms to force herself to focus, often stripping the rooms of any distractions to face the blank page.
  • Franz Kafka wrote late at night, exhausted after his day job at an insurance company.
  • Countless parents have written their masterpieces in fifteen-minute increments during nap times or at kitchen tables while dinner bubbled on the stove.

These writers didn’t wait for the world to stop spinning so they could write. They carved out space within a spinning world. They understood that writing is labour, not a luxury.

How to Kill the “Ideal Conditions” Habit

If you find yourself paralysed by the need for perfection, it’s time to break the cycle. Here are three ways to stop waiting and start creating:

1. Lower the Bar: Give yourself permission to write “badly.” The goal of a first draft isn’t to be brilliant; it’s to exist. You can’t edit a blank page, but you can always fix a draft that is already written.

2. Create Rituals, Not Requirements. Instead of needing total silence, perfect temperature, and a specific mood, build a “trigger” that tells your brain it’s time to work. It could be putting on a specific pair of noise-cancelling headphones or playing the same three songs on repeat. These rituals are portable; you can take them anywhere.

3. Embrace the “Micro-Session” Stop waiting for a four-hour block of uninterrupted time. If you have ten minutes before a meeting or while waiting for a laundry cycle to finish, write. Those small pockets of time add up to pages, and pages add up to a book.

The Bottom Line

E.B. White’s warning is a call to arms for every aspiring creator. Your life is not going to pause to accommodate your art. Silence will be broken by sirens; inspiration will be interrupted by laundry; your mood will fluctuate from high to low.

The “ideal conditions” you are waiting for are a ghost. Don’t let your legacy be a pile of unwritten ideas. Write now, write messy, and write anyway. The world doesn’t need your perfection; it needs your voice.

What I learned about writing – Trunk stories – those stories you never seem to finish

Yes, the ones that end up in a dark corner of the writing room, if you have one, simply because the ideas ran out, or the next move wasn’t clear.

I have stories like that, quite a few actually, and every now and then I rummage, find one, and make the centre of my next NaNoWriMo project. And since NaNoWriMo comes around twice a year, it means two have done stories come in from the cold.

But, this idea of picking up a story you wrote a long while ago but never finished, mainly because something was missing, is a good one, and recently, while I was away, and trying not to work on a new project I found this story I wrote about thirty years ago, and actually did get to the end, but it wasn’t the end I wanted.

So, each night I read a few chapters and made notes.

Then, at the end of the story, I could see what the problem was; it needed to have closure with another event that was overshadowing the life of the protagonist. I had at some point written in a new character and hadn’t quite got the details right.

There was a hint of a resolution at the end, but it had been hastily put together, or if I knew myself back then, I had written the end long before I got to it, and failed to maintain the plotlines to support it.

Or maybe it just meant that the story had been running around inside my head for the intervening thirty years and now I knew what to write, or how I was going to get to that end.

It needed a lot of rewriting, and in the end, it virtually ends up as two stories, related but independent of each other.

Yes, I have piles of trunk stories, and yes, I do go back a little earlier than thirty years, and yes, some of them become projects that are completed to the first or second draft.

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 126

Day 126 – The ‘we need a plan, and not enough time’ scenario

…

The Parkinson’s Paradox: Why You Need to Fake a Deadline to Actually Start Writing

If you gave a writer an entire year to finish a novel, they wouldn’t produce a masterpiece. They would produce a year’s worth of frantic, last-minute scribbling—preceded by eleven months of intense research into the mating habits of Victorian earthworms and the tactical evolution of the 1920s cheese grater.

It’s the writer’s curse: Parkinson’s Law.

The law states that work expands to fill the time available for its completion. If you have all the time in the world, the task becomes bloated, abstract, and paralyzingly heavy. We don’t write because we have time; we write because we have run out of it.

But what happens when the deadline is invisible? What do you do when you are your own boss, your own editor, and your own project manager? If you’re waiting for the “perfect moment” or the “clear schedule” to start your work, you are waiting for a ghost.

To produce, you must manufacture urgency. You have to trick your brain into believing the ship is sinking. Here is how to create an artificial “plan and not enough time” scenario to force your creativity into the light.

1. The “Public Humiliation” Pact

Nothing creates a sense of scarcity like the fear of looking incompetent. Put your money—or your pride—where your mouth is. Use a site like StickK or simply text a friend: “If I don’t send you 500 words by 5:00 PM today, I am Venmoing you $50.”

When the stakes move from “I’d like to do this” to “I am losing actual currency,” your brain stops dilly-dallying and starts typing.

2. The “Short Window” Sprint (The Pomodoro on Steroids)

We often procrastinate because the task feels infinite. To fix this, trap yourself in a corner. Tell yourself: I am going to work for exactly 45 minutes. When the timer hits zero, I am closing the laptop, regardless of whether I finished the sentence.

By creating an artificial endpoint, you turn writing into a sprint rather than a marathon. You no longer have the “luxury” of overthinking that paragraph structure because you only have six minutes left to get it down.

3. The “Accountability Partner” Ambush

Schedule a meeting or a check-in with someone before the work is actually ready. If you tell an editor or a writing buddy, “I’ll have the draft sent over by Thursday at lunch,” you have created an external deadline.

The pressure isn’t just about finishing; it’s about showing up. When you know someone is waiting for your email, the temptation to surf the internet loses its lustre.

4. The “Zero-Draft” Rule

Part of the reason we procrastinate is that we treat every writing session like a final draft. We edit as we go, which kills our momentum.

Instead, force an artificial “time crunch” by committing to a Zero Draft. Tell yourself you have to finish the entire piece in one sitting because “you’re leaving for the airport” (or whatever metaphor works for you). This forces you to ignore the inner critic and focus entirely on velocity. You can fix the typos later; you can’t fix a blank page.

The Bottom Line

Creativity thrives on constraints. When you have all the time in the world, you have no incentive to be decisive.

Stop waiting for the right moment. The right moment is a myth. The “perfect time” is an illusion that keeps you trapped in the cycle of research, surfing, and doodling. Stop playing the long game. Create a trap, set a timer, and make yourself run out of time.

You’ll find that when your back is against the wall, you don’t just write—you soar.

…

365 Days of writing, 2026 – 126

Day 126 – The ‘we need a plan, and not enough time’ scenario

…

The Parkinson’s Paradox: Why You Need to Fake a Deadline to Actually Start Writing

If you gave a writer an entire year to finish a novel, they wouldn’t produce a masterpiece. They would produce a year’s worth of frantic, last-minute scribbling—preceded by eleven months of intense research into the mating habits of Victorian earthworms and the tactical evolution of the 1920s cheese grater.

It’s the writer’s curse: Parkinson’s Law.

The law states that work expands to fill the time available for its completion. If you have all the time in the world, the task becomes bloated, abstract, and paralyzingly heavy. We don’t write because we have time; we write because we have run out of it.

But what happens when the deadline is invisible? What do you do when you are your own boss, your own editor, and your own project manager? If you’re waiting for the “perfect moment” or the “clear schedule” to start your work, you are waiting for a ghost.

To produce, you must manufacture urgency. You have to trick your brain into believing the ship is sinking. Here is how to create an artificial “plan and not enough time” scenario to force your creativity into the light.

1. The “Public Humiliation” Pact

Nothing creates a sense of scarcity like the fear of looking incompetent. Put your money—or your pride—where your mouth is. Use a site like StickK or simply text a friend: “If I don’t send you 500 words by 5:00 PM today, I am Venmoing you $50.”

When the stakes move from “I’d like to do this” to “I am losing actual currency,” your brain stops dilly-dallying and starts typing.

2. The “Short Window” Sprint (The Pomodoro on Steroids)

We often procrastinate because the task feels infinite. To fix this, trap yourself in a corner. Tell yourself: I am going to work for exactly 45 minutes. When the timer hits zero, I am closing the laptop, regardless of whether I finished the sentence.

By creating an artificial endpoint, you turn writing into a sprint rather than a marathon. You no longer have the “luxury” of overthinking that paragraph structure because you only have six minutes left to get it down.

3. The “Accountability Partner” Ambush

Schedule a meeting or a check-in with someone before the work is actually ready. If you tell an editor or a writing buddy, “I’ll have the draft sent over by Thursday at lunch,” you have created an external deadline.

The pressure isn’t just about finishing; it’s about showing up. When you know someone is waiting for your email, the temptation to surf the internet loses its lustre.

4. The “Zero-Draft” Rule

Part of the reason we procrastinate is that we treat every writing session like a final draft. We edit as we go, which kills our momentum.

Instead, force an artificial “time crunch” by committing to a Zero Draft. Tell yourself you have to finish the entire piece in one sitting because “you’re leaving for the airport” (or whatever metaphor works for you). This forces you to ignore the inner critic and focus entirely on velocity. You can fix the typos later; you can’t fix a blank page.

The Bottom Line

Creativity thrives on constraints. When you have all the time in the world, you have no incentive to be decisive.

Stop waiting for the right moment. The right moment is a myth. The “perfect time” is an illusion that keeps you trapped in the cycle of research, surfing, and doodling. Stop playing the long game. Create a trap, set a timer, and make yourself run out of time.

You’ll find that when your back is against the wall, you don’t just write—you soar.

…