How to Build a Writing Practice You Can Return To

Okay, Writing Rebel, tell me if this writing advice sounds all too familiar:

✏️ Start a habit.
✏️ Start a routine.
✏️ Start fresh on Monday.

But you know as well as I do that the real challenge for most writers isn’t starting.

Okay, maybe sometimes it is (ADHD writers, you know the crack).

We all find a way, though, when the stories in our heads are itching to meet the page.

The real pain in the pen is returning after that sweet, delicious dopamine, fuelled by “shiny new idea” syndrome, has dried up.

And then there’s:

👉 Returning after a busy week.
👉 Returning after a lapse in confidence.
👉 Returning when the work feels harder than it did at the beginning.

It took me a long time (and three writing degrees) to finally accept that a sustainable writing practice isn’t one you never break.

It’s one you can come back to without punishment.

The same can be said about many of life’s habit-haunts.

But let’s crack the nut on the writing practice poltergeist once and for all.

Why most writing practices fall apart

Too many writing practices are built on ideal conditions.

Perfect mornings. High motivation. Plenty of time and energy.

And you and I both know that ideal conditions aren’t exactly…ideal.

When those all too elusive conditions disappear, the practice goes with them.

The reliance on “right timing or conditions” creates a fragile system. We all know the quote about fragile systems and a few berries…

One missed session turns into guilt. Guilt turns into avoidance. Avoidance turns into long gaps that feel hard to cross.

Over time, your writing practice doesn’t fail because you don’t care.
It fails because it doesn’t account for real life. Your real life.

And that looks completely different for everyone.

A practice that only works when everything goes well isn’t resilient enough to last.

But we’re here for the long writing game, not the short sprint. So how do we tackle it?

Consistency isn’t about intensity

A common mistake writers make is equating consistency with intensity.

I see a lot of “all or nothing” thinking from many of our writers and creatives in the Studio, and I am very guilty of it myself.

💔 Long sessions.
💔 Big word counts.
💔 Dramatic bursts of productivity.

These can feel satisfying, but they’re difficult to sustain.

A writing practice that lasts is usually a bit more boring.

It’s built around:

🫰 modest expectations

🫰 repeatable actions

🫰 and realistic commitments

Consistency isn’t about doing everything, everywhere, all at once.

It’s about doing something often enough that the work stays alive.

Designing for return, not perfection

“How do I write every day?”

Remove this question from your self-interrogation strategy.

Don’t worry, you can still role-play good cop/bad cop.

Replace it with:

“How do I make it easy to come back?”

A return-friendly writing practice includes:

❤️‍🔥 a clear sense of where you left off

❤️‍🔥 a next step that’s already defined

❤️‍🔥 permission to resume without catching up

When returning feels simple, lapses shift from failures to pauses.

Welcoming this shift alone can change how you relate to your work as a writer.

The role of structure in a lasting writing practice

Structure doesn’t mean rigidity.

It means you know:

🕯️ when your writing tends to happen

🕯️what kind of work fits your energy

🕯️ and what counts as progress right now

Structure reduces decision fatigue.

Instead of asking yourself dozens of questions before you start, the answers are already there.

🥡 Create yourself a writing menu.

Think dopamine menu but for storytelling and creativity.

You know what works for you. Think back to your best writing sessions to date.

What spurred that momentum?

Quick prompts? Five-minute exercises? Fun rabbit hole explorations?

Listening to that one song, that oozes the same energy as your MC, on repeat for 3 hours?

Your goal with your writing menu is simple: Make your writing feel lighter, even when the work itself is challenging.

💪 A good structure adapts as your life changes.

It doesn’t collapse when routines are disrupted.

Review your menu as needed, but avoid letting it consume your focus.

Scrap anything that no longer works. Repeat the things that always fill you with CreativeFuel!

Why external support matters more than willpower

🫣 Admit it:

Up until now, you’ve been trying to build a writing practice entirely inside your own head.

You’re trying to rely on memory, motivation, and future discipline.

That’s a lot to ask. Would you ask that of your best friend? Probs not.

Please stop putting that pressure on yourself!

👇 Here’s something you already know:

You need to get better at asking for what you need.

External support, whether through accountability, shared rhythm, or community, takes some of that load off. It holds the practice steady when your attention or energy wobbles.

It isn’t selfish. You’re not being “too much.” And it most definitely isn’t cringe to be seen trying.

External support is actually the writing secret that makes your practice more resilient.

Writing has always thrived in shared environments, even when the work itself is solitary.

A writing practice that grows with you

😏 Oh, and one very, very, VERY important note:

Your writing practice doesn’t need to look the same forever.

What works while drafting may not work while revising.
What works during a quieter season may not fit a busier one.

What works in your first year of writing certainly won’t work in your tenth year of writing.

It’s called growth, baby. And you gain it with every single word you write.

But guess what? A practice you can return to is flexible by design.

It allows for:

👏 changing goals

👏 fluctuating energy

👏 and evolving projects

Instead of restarting from scratch each time, the practice adapts to you.

You’re allowed to make this easier

Don’t think you’re cheating the writing system, because you’re not.

Many writers carry an unspoken belief that writing should be hard to count.

That ease somehow cheapens the work.

In reality, difficulty often comes from unnecessary friction, not depth.

Removing friction doesn’t remove seriousness; it makes seriousness sustainable.

I also think you should allocate space for silliness. Without creative play, what’s the bloody point?

A writing practice that supports return is a long-term strategy that you won’t feel the need to compromise on.

A final chicken nugget of wisdom

🙂‍↔️ If you’ve struggled to maintain a writing practice, it doesn’t mean you lack discipline or commitment.

No, you clearly have bags of that, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this.

Your struggle likely means that your previous practice wasn’t designed to survive real-world conditions.

A practice you can return to is built on focus, flexibility, and support. It assumes interruption. It plans for it.

🪩 Studio Sonder exists to help writers like you build exactly this kind of practice:

one that holds through drift, doubt, and change, and keeps the work alive over time.

You don’t need to start over.
But you could do with a helping hand get you back on piste.

Let us direct you.

Keep taking messy action daily, Rebel!

Dr Demi

Creative Writing PhD, Studio Sonder Founder & Creator in Chief