One of the best pieces of advice I received early on was simple: sit down and write every day. Even if you’re stuck. Even if the words aren’t good. The point isn’t brilliance—it’s habit. Eventually, your body learns what to do and just writes.

My practice is 30 minutes each morning at my drafting table. I flip open my iPad, start a new Word doc, and begin. Sometimes, to avoid the blank page, I type “good morning.”

At first, the challenge was speed—getting a full post drafted and edited in 30 minutes felt impossible. Most days it took me an hour or more. Over time, though, my process got faster. On good days, as quick as 15 minutes. By the six-month mark, I knew without a doubt: give me 30 minutes, and I can get a post out. The anxiety eased, too. Writing became less like a test and more like visiting a friend. I could sit with the discomfort of not knowing if a post would work.

The daily publishing deadline is what made the shift happen. The constraint of 30 minutes trains your brain to complete a thought in the time you have.

But that constraint has limits. Some posts come out half-formed—missing the right story, tangled in structure, weighed down by clumsy word choice. Any number of things that, with more time, could make the writing more potent, more distilled, more helpful.

The practice has made me consistent and comfortable sharing ideas. But it hasn’t, on its own, made the writing good.