Lia Declan's Musings

Tip 1: Write Every Day, or Else
We’ve all heard this one delivered like an absolute truth. Miss a single day and the Writing Police will apparently march up the path, break down the door, and confiscate our laptops before we’ve had time to defend ourselves. Stephen King writes every day. Nora Roberts writes every day. James Patterson probably writes every day while juggling five other projects for sport. They found a rhythm that suits them, and that’s great. The trouble started when their personal routines got twisted into universal commandments. Suddenly we’re told we aren’t real writers unless we’ve already hit two thousand words before breakfast.

The truth is simpler and far less dramatic. Daily writing helps some people, but it isn’t the only way to build a routine. Life doesn’t rearrange itself for our creative whims. We have jobs, children, ill-timed colds, and the occasional need to stare into space because our brains have turned to fog. Missing a day isn’t failure. Writing isn’t a religion, and no one’s keeping attendance. What matters is that we return to the page, whether that’s daily, weekly, or whenever we can wrestle our concentration into cooperation.

Tip 2: Word Count Is King
There’s always someone bragging about churning out ten thousand words in a weekend. They say it with the breathless pride of a marathon runner, as though quantity proves brilliance. Never mind that half the draft reads like a string of filler phrases that repeat until we can’t keep track. The myth says the bigger the number, the more impressive the writer.

The reality is much simpler. Word counts are tools, not trophies. Five hundred words that actually move the story forward are worth more than five thousand that only exist because we kept typing out of guilt. The number doesn’t define us. The sentences do. We need to stop worshipping the counter at the bottom of the screen and start paying attention to what the words are doing.

Tip 3: First Drafts Must Be Perfect
Perfectionism loves disguising itself as discipline. It whispers that if our first drafts aren’t publication ready on the first pass then maybe we’re not meant for this. It’s a seductive lie. First drafts are supposed to be a mess. They’re the raw material. The attempt to work out what the story is even trying to say. No one hands out prizes for chapter one of a rough draft.

A first draft gives us something to build on. Revision is where the real work happens. That’s when the sentences start behaving and the ideas stop tripping over themselves. The mess isn’t a problem. It’s evidence that we’re creating something worth reading.

Tip 4: Read Everything, Especially Books You Hate
There’s a strange idea floating around that we must read every word ever written before we’re allowed to write a single paragraph. We’re told to read widely, read deeply, read outside our comfort zone, and read books that make us grind our teeth. The suggestion is that suffering through a miserable novel builds character.

Here’s what actually matters. We learn from the books we love because they show us what wakes us up. We also learn from the ones we don’t enjoy, but we don’t need to force-feed ourselves hundreds of pages to prove dedication. We can put the dreadful book down and keep walking. Reading should open doors, not imprison us in someone else’s taste.

Tip 5: Find Your Voice (Immediately, Preferably Before Lunch)
This one gets pushed like a scavenger hunt. We’re told our “voice” is hidden somewhere between childhood trauma and a spiritual epiphany, and we’ll recognise it when we stumble across it. The pressure to sound “authentic” on command can make us freeze up.

Our voice isn’t a mystical object waiting under a rock. It’s the accumulation of choices that become natural because they’re ours. It grows as we write and changes as we move through life. We find it by showing up, experimenting, getting things wrong, and noticing what feels right. It won’t arrive on a schedule, and it doesn’t need to impress anyone.

Tip 6: Never Break the Rules
We’re advised to follow every rule of grammar and structure as though the fate of civilisation depends on it. Show, don’t tell. Avoid adverbs, especially the word “so.” Only use active voice. Never start a sentence with “and.” The list goes on forever.

Rules have their place. They’re maps. They help us see why a sentence confuses or why a scene drags. But they’re not the final word. Writers break rules all the time, and the work survives because the choice serves the story. We don’t earn failure points for bending a guideline. We just need to understand why we’re doing it.

Tip 7: Inspiration Must Strike First
Some people wait for inspiration as though it’s a flaky friend who may or may not bother to show up. They speak about their muse with reverence, then claim they can’t possibly write until it whispers something life-changing.

Inspiration is lovely when it arrives, but it’s unreliable. Writing doesn’t happen because the muse taps us on the shoulder. Writing happens because we start anyway. Sometimes the spark comes later, once we’ve suffered through a few stubborn paragraphs. We invite inspiration by working, not by waiting.

Tip 8: If You’re Not Suffering, You’re Not Serious
We’ve absorbed the idea that real writing must involve agony. If we’re not tearing our hair out or questioning our life choices, then we’re apparently not committed. There’s a romantic image of the tortured artist hunched over the desk, and many people cling to it as proof of legitimacy.

Misery isn’t a requirement. The work can be demanding without destroying us. We can struggle through a chapter and still enjoy the process. We’re allowed to write with pleasure. We don’t need to bleed for every page.

Tip 9: Publishing Is the Goal
Everything leads to publication, or so the myth goes. The book isn’t real until it’s on a shelf. The work doesn’t matter unless strangers buy it. We absorb the pressure to prove ourselves through an external stamp of approval.

Publishing can be wonderful. It can also be crushing. The industry moves slowly, changes constantly, and demands decisions we can’t control. The writing itself is the part we own. Finishing a book is an achievement whether or not it ever reaches the shops. Our value isn’t measured by sales figures.

Tip 10: A Real Writer Never Quits
There’s a heroic narrative built around perseverance. We’re told to keep going no matter what. Power through. Push harder. Refuse to give up. It sounds admirable until we’re exhausted and resentful and convinced that we’ll never write again.

A real writer stops when they need to. They rest, rethink, step back, and return when their mind has cleared. Quitting isn’t the enemy. Burnout is. We don’t prove our worth by ignoring ourselves; we prove it by creating a life in which we can actually write and enjoy doing it.