A friend and fellow writer recently worked with a writing coach, seeking to restart a writing career that had stalled out. The result was a renewed enthusiasm for the craft, and it seems my friend is on the path to regaining the motivation to write. I didn’t catch all the details of these coaching sessions, when the tale was told, but one aspect in particular caught my attention. It seems this writer has an intuitive approach to writing that runs counter to a few commonly expressed ideas regarding the writing process. Advice about how it “should” be done had been internalized regardless of the conflict it created with my friend’s approach, and the self-doubt that developed as a result created a serious case of writer’s block.

The answer for this person, brought to light by the coaching, turned out to be giving themselves permission to write in a way that came naturally, regardless of outside advice. To accept that what some writers consider a bad habit might actually be the best thing for another writer to do. And that trying to shoehorn your process into the expectations raised by others could be the worst.

It’s all too easy to fall into the expert advice trap, especially if you’re new to writing. Most of us learn, as our very first lesson, that writing isn’t as easy as just putting down words in the right order. Writing creatively takes practice, and for most of us we’re talking a lot of practice over a significant amount of time. It’s natural enough, then, to seek advice when you’re new to the craft of writing, and it makes perfect sense to try out the advice that’s been received. But one piece of advice I always give to new writers is this: these are not rules being set out for you to follow. The only things other writers can provide, however well-known or successful they may be, are guidelines based on personal experience. It pays to listen to how others approach the craft, and you may well learn something that helps you move forward. But…

Guidelines, not rules. Always remember this concept. If you’ve worked out a process that’s getting the words down, but something you do doesn’t fit the standard advice floating around out there, don’t assume you’re doing something wrong. Be willing to try new ideas out, but give yourself permission to dismiss them if they don’t help get you into the groove.

Three examples from my own experience should serve to illustrate what I mean. The first has to do with word counts. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been told that worrying about word counts as a measure of productivity or progress is a bad habit. That you shouldn’t become “hung up” on word counts, for fear of being discouraged by seemingly inadequate numbers. I can see where that fear might interfere with the creative process, should consistently low counts undermine motivation and morale. For some writers that surely is a potential problem, and a reason not to keep a count. For me, though, it works the other way around, and I’ve been using word counts for as long as I’ve been writing. Word count records, especially when putting down a first draft, keep me honest about my work ethic; keep me from lapsing into lazy habits. And on “bad” days I can look at even a modest word count and be assured that I at least made some progress. It’s a tool I know and use well. It might work this way for you. It might not.

Another thing that I’ve been told repeatedly is that it’s a bad habit is to have multiple works in progress. The advice here is that you absolutely should focus on one project, finish that one, and only then move on. For beginning writer this does make some sense. But we don’t stay beginners forever, and not all beginners work the same way. For me, with more years of experience behind me than I want to count, having more than one project moving forward greatly increases my productivity. If I just can’t get the current novel rolling today, I have a couple of things to work on that keep me writing. This gives the writing process itself momentum, regardless of which project sees its word count rise. In thirteen years I’ve released eighteen titles of various lengths. More than a few of them were written concurrently. If you have enough confidence and self-discipline, having a different project to switch to when something gets stuck can be beneficial. Unless your natural mode is one of laser focus on one thing at a time, all of the time, in which case that’s your process, and never mind what I do.

Writing nonstop without revising as you go is often highly touted (and by some big name authors) as the best way to write a book. Going back to change things before the draft is completed is seen as a risky habit that could slow down the development of the book. Or worse, keep you from ever finishing that book in the first place. Should you then plunge forward with a draft and never look back, just because they say so? Revise only when that first draft is done? For the most part, that’s what I do. But ideas sometimes come after the fact, and unless I go back and make changes – or at least insert notes regarding what the changes should be – I’ll be distracted by that stray idea for the rest of the first draft. No one I know writes well when distracted. So if going back and forth as needed gets the job done for you, feel free, no matter what someone else tells you. Subverting that natural tendency, on “expert” advice, could make you a less productive – and less happy – writer in the long run. Grant yourself a dispensation and revise whenever you feel the need.

Always be willing to try other ways to write. Some of what you learn might prove useful – you just never know. Or that well-intended advice could be the worst thing in the world for you, as a writer. On the chance that the latter scenario arises, always reserve for yourself the permission to say no, and do what really works for you.