One October day, I was sitting beside a creek with another writer. My friend asked, “Why do you write?” The best answer I could think of was, “When I don’t write, it’s like a silence I can’t stand. I crave it. I keep coming back.”

Coming back to the craft is my most important rule of writing. I can come back after years; I can come back after months; I can come back tomorrow. The words will still be there, even if my perspective is new.

One hauntingly popular rule is that a writer must write every day and must also read voraciously. This rule appeals to my distorted belief that rest is for the weak, and moderation is for the lazy.

This isn’t to say writing and reading every day is wrong. There are benefits to those routines. What’s problematic to me is how critical I become of myself based on how I much I create and how often I study.

Years ago, when I was busy finishing novel drafts in ten weeks and reading regularly, I still didn’t feel like I was up to what real writers accomplish. In light of the classic writer’s rule, I overlooked rest and reality.

So, nowadays, I show up when I can, and that gets the work done. This shift realigned expectations like a bone set straight by a splint. I get to walk my own path. I come back because I want to, not because I have to. I write because I’m in love with it.