The Only Rule Is Don’t Stop

I’ve said this for years, mostly to myself, sometimes to other writers, and occasionally to strangers who look like they’re about to give up on something they care about.

Publishing isn’t magic, and it isn’t luck. Well, maybe a splash of luck, like everything in life. But mostly it’s a long, stubborn walk made up of small habits: write today, query today, try again today.

I saw a conversation this week about whether encouraging writers is irresponsible. Whether it’s better to warn people away from the work rather than invite them into it. Here’s where I land: the work is hard, but the door is open. And the only rule that’s carried me through thirteen years of this wild career is simple.

Don’t stop.

If you want to write a book, write the book.
Not “think about writing the book while staring at your ceiling fan.”
Not “scrolling through Threads until Richard comes back from the dead.”
Not “wait until inspiration descends like a benevolent pigeon.”

Write. The. Book.

When I started writing my poetry books, I was freelancing for magazines and raising a toddler. When I began writing my first novel, I wrote in the hours between deadlines, school pickups, and whatever nonsense the day handed me. Most writers squeeze their work into the edges of their lives. If you’re exhausted, over‑caffeinated, juggling deadlines, and haven’t had time to see your friends or go to the washroom since Monday, congratulations. You’re a writer.

If you want an agent, query consistently. Daily, weekly, whatever you can sustain. It took me a year and a half, querying every few days. Be a determined little goblin who’s decided today’s the day. One email at a time. One spreadsheet meltdown at a time. One “why did they say not for me in six different ways?” moment at a time.

If you want your book on shelves, talk to librarians and booksellers. They’re wise, magical creatures who know everything and will absolutely tell you if your cover looks like a tax form.

None of this requires a second mortgage or a trust fund. I’m a six‑figure career author, both self‑published and traditionally published, and I built that career by reinvesting book income and showing up day after day. Going from book idea to “oh‑my‑god, it’s on bookshelves” requires action and stubbornness, and the kind of joyful delusion that makes you say, “Yes, I will write ninety thousand words about these imaginary people and then ask strangers to pay money for it.”

Publishing’s hard. But with all the choices we have today — self‑publishing, traditional publishing, a hybrid of both — it’s not a gated community. It’s more like a chaotic carnival where the rides often break down, but the caramel corn is amazing, so you keep coming back because you love it.

If you want it, go get it.

The only rule is don’t stop.