Some things I’ve learned about me and writing recently:

1. I’m impossibly distractible. It’s a learned behavior: I check all my social networks, take a look at my email, fall down Wikipedia rabbit holes. Writing on the iPad seems to help me a lot. Those things are there too, but they feel relatively inaccessible: I don’t have a Threads app, for example, and using it on the web on that device feels like a chore. I know, I know: those things do work fine on an iPad, but shhhh, I’m getting a lot of mileage out of convincing myself that they don’t.
2. Tiny goals help. I started using Todoist earlier this year, which is the first to-do list app that fits with the way my brain works. I have a lot of things I need to keep track of, and it’s been a huge relief across work and my life to have a list that I can keep referring to. These days, my Todoist “today” list drives my day as much as my calendar does. So it was easy to add a daily recurring “Write some novel words” task. I get to check it off if I make any progress at all; the trick is that once I start making some progress, momentum usually keeps me going until I’ve written a meaningful amount. I’ve even started logging supplementary tasks if I have a thematic idea that I want to experiment with later (today’s is a scene transition that I want to play with).
3. I’ve got to make do with the late evenings. Between taking a toddler to and from daycare, working at ProPublica, and dealing with everything I need to in the house, the only real time I have to make progress is late at night once everyone else has gone to bed. I’m exhausted by that time of night, but to my surprise, this routine has been effective for me: I settle in the living room with my iPad, and off I go. The ergonomics of slouching on my sofa with a tablet balanced across my knees are horrible, though.
4. I can’t stay completely serious. It turns out that I’m most motivated by my sense of humor. I tried to write a serious book, I really did, but the ironies and observations kept coming, and what I’ve wound up with is a serious topic and what I hope is a gripping plot, wrapped up in irony and a delight in poking at incongruities. Hopefully readers will find it more fun than self-indulgent; I’m having fun with it, and I hope they do too. When I have written more earnestly, I come back to my draft and instantly hate it. There’s detail in irony; it reveals truths that writing point-blank seems to miss.
5. Not a single soul will get to see this until I have polished it within an inch of its life. I got a plot suggestion from a writing tutor and it set me back six to nine months. The suggestion was good, but it meant reworking what I’d done so far. I lost momentum on the first draft and found myself stuck in editing mode, working on the same chapters again and again. Lesson learned. We can make substantive changes later, once the whole thing is committed to the page.
6. It’s not blogging. I’ve been blogging since 1998. Although I can always use proofreading and an editing pass, this muscle is fully-developed for me. I feel very little cognitive barrier to getting a blog post on the page, and I feel like I can do it quickly. Writing a book, on the other hand, requires much more craft: it’s like chiseling a story out of rock. I didn’t study this, and I am not a great sculptor. I wrote a lot more fiction when I was younger but dismissed it as a career path, even though it's where my heart truly lay. Only recently have I given myself permission to treat it as important. I’m under no illusions that I’m good at it, but I’m going to try anyway, because here’s what keeps me going:
7. I love it. That’s what matters most, in a way. I love making something substantial, and I love being in a creative flow state. I’m often cackling at ideas as I furiously write them down. I’m petrified of sharing what I’ve done later on, but I’m putting that out of my mind. For now, it doesn’t matter. For now, I’m just telling myself a story, and I’m enjoying it a great deal. What happens to it afterwards is a story for another time.