“How long did it take you to write that book?”
Nearly every author gets that question, but it’s tough to answer. What’s the real starting point? Do you count calendar time or the hours spent working? What’s the person asking trying to discover?
A better question to ask might be this: “What was your overall writing pace while drafting?” That might be more helpful to know, but even then, my sustainable pace may not match yours.
We find our sustainable pace again and again through the experience of writing. It varies across time, life circumstances, and projects.
In my own writing and coaching scores of authors, I’ve developed a few observational rules that might help you figure out your own best pace. See if any of them speak to you right now.
Rulle #1: Your starting pace rarely lasts
Most writers, and especially nonfiction writers, try to figure out the general schedule when setting out on a large project like a book—treating it like any other large work project:
“I’ll write one chapter every week. My outline has 16 chapters, so I’ll have the draft in roughly four months.”
That schedule might be reasonable based on your preparation, writing speed, and lifestyle. Too often, it’s the result of best-case-scenario planning.
A few weeks in, you begin to flag. The writing demands more of you than you planned. New ideas spur further research. The rest of your life clamors for your attention.
It’s the planning fallacy in action—we tend to underestimate how log it will take us to complete a task, partly because we cannot easily plan for the unexpected.
Setting out at the wrong pace isn’t a problem unless you let it become one, either by sticking to an unmanageable pace and burning out or by quitting in frustration.
There’s no shame in slowing down. Yet choosing a pace that is too slow, lengthening the schedule considerably, brings its own risks, which leads us to rule #2.
Rule #2: The longer the schedule, the more life interferes
Our lives rarely remain static while we’re writing. Children or parents have health emergencies. The roof leaks. You lose power. So many events can knock us off our game.
To reduce the risk of being derailed, you have a couple options:
- Add buffer to your schedule to deal with the unexpected. (I recommend adding at least 20% over what feels like a reasonable estimate.)
- Set a faster schedule. Get through it sooner so you won’t be sidelined.
If you decide to write in a sprint, check out rule #3 …
Rule #3: Sprints have costs
If you’ve got a deadline or you can see the finish line looming, you might want to write intensely. The draw of the impending end often grants renewed energy.
Writing a book might involve multiple sprints.
But beware: When the sprint ends, you may be left gasping for air, depleted.
Most of us need time to replenish our writing energy after an intense sprint. Plan for rest and schedule it. Then pick up the pen again. Otherwise, you may end up further back than if you hadn’t sprinted at all. That’s because of rule #4 …
Rule #4: It’s hard to write from an empty tank
If you try, you won’t have fun, and it will most likely take longer.
If your writing or your life circumstances have emptied your tank, let it refill.
Give yourself permission to not write, or to switch modes and journal or read. Write a witty limerick. Go outdoors. Spend time with a favorite book. Replenish if you can. There’s no shame in that—your writing energy is finite, and the amount in the tank varies with circumstances beyond your control.
If you need to slow up, however, remember Rule #5 …
Rule #5: It’s easier to restart from a glide than a hard stop
Sometimes life circumstances mean that stopping your writing completely is the only practical choice. Often, though, you can choose to coast gently for a while.
Put the schedule to one side but keep your finger on the pulse of the work.
What does coasting look like? It might entail only 10-15 minutes a day to do the following:
- Review your notes
- Edit text already written
- Read and take notes
- Talk about your project with someone
- Write only 100 words into the draft — a few sentences that may or may not make it through the final cut.
Why bother with these small efforts if they don’t move the needle much?
The benefits are internal.
You’ll feel the immense satisfaction of making progress, however small, under tough circumstances. Restarting will be easier, as you’re keeping the work alive in your background mental processes.
If you have to restart from a hard stop of a few weeks, months, or more, show yourself grace. You probably won’t jump right back in at the pace you had originally. Find your new pace, and keep writing.
You’ve got this.
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