THE WRITER'S COVENANT

The hardest part of writing is putting the first word on the page each day.

Over the years, I’ve taken many courses – retreats, workshops, even a dedicated creative writing degree. A dozen or so writers collect around a table or on comfy sofas in the light of a spring morning, furtively glancing around or down at their notebooks, the scent of coffee in the air. The focus is always the same: dissecting what’s already been written. Why does it work? Why doesn’t it? What’s missing? What can be improved? Yet, almost no one addresses the true challenge of writing: starting and sustaining a daily practice.

Why? Because that’s the hardest part. For many, it’s an insurmountable obstacle. They write – or try to write – under pressure, forcing words onto the page just so their fellow writers have something to critique. But the effort feels frantic, and the results are fragile. What’s missing is the foundation that supports the work: the right creative habits. The foundation of writing isn’t just about putting words on the page, but about the habits that guide you. When do you write? What do you say to yourself? Where are your thoughts wandering?

Without the right habits and mindset, I’ve seen so many talented writers who never reach their potential. Years after a workshop or retreat, they’re still chipping away at the same project, trapped in a self-perpetuating cycle of doubt and procrastination. The result is predictable: feeling blocked.

It disheartens me to see fellow writers struggle unnecessarily. I use that word with care – because it doesn’t have to be this way. As a writer – or any kind of creative – you have the power to shape your own outcome. It starts with shifting your perspective and establishing a few essential habits.

First, A Covenant with Your Creative Self

I think of a writer’s practice as a covenant with the deepest, most creative part of the self. Every day, I promise to write. And every day I deliver on that promise, my creative self – and my confidence – is nourished and expanded. Of course, the opposite is also true. If I unintentionally veer off course – say, by turning a ten-day holiday into a month-long hiatus – then I’ve broken that promise, and the effects ripple into every other area of my life. I feel listless, anxious, afraid. I worry I’ll forget how to write entirely. And then what will I be? Not a writer. No.

Writing is a Practice, Not Just an Identity

Part of that reaction is harsh self-critique. But part of it is true: being a writer isn’t just an identity – it’s a practice. It requires discipline, dedication, and the right mindset. A violinist doesn’t step into rehearsal thinking they hate the music, lack talent, and have no right to play. With that attitude, they wouldn’t last long enough to improve – much less excel. Instead, they embrace the process, applying what they learn and gradually building skill and confidence. The same applies to writing. Some days will flow effortlessly; others will feel like climbing a mountain in thick fog. You won’t always know where each step will lead, but that’s not the point. The point is to keep going.

Every time you write, you strengthen your covenant with your creative self. You build the confidence necessary to become the writer you’re meant to be.