No cold plunge, no five a.m. It’s a notebook, a coffee, and a list short enough to finish.
I write the week down before I read anything anyone else has written. Three lines: what matters, what can wait, what I’m quietly dreading. The dread one is the trick — named on paper, it shrinks to a sensible size.
Then I leave the house
Twenty minutes of walking does more for a first draft than an hour of sitting at it. By the time I’m back the difficult paragraph has usually rearranged itself without me.
Filed under Routines