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Writing Productivity Hacks

Bryan Young

June 13, 2024 | 4 min read

It is a truth universally acknowledged that finding focus in the digital age is impossible.

Everything we do is optimized for productivity, so it's no wonder that we get lost scrolling for hours on end. Consuming is so much easier than creating.

Whether you're a seasoned author, a struggling student, or a pro journalist, focus and productivity are important — and difficult to find. To help, we gathered the top writing hacks that are relatively easy to implement and will help you streamline your process.

By integrating these hacks into your creative process, you can cultivate a more productive and prolific writing life.

In this article:

Learn from the Pros

Set Writing Goals

Build a Routine

Utilize Writing Sprints

Make It a Habit

Gamify Your Process

Create Your Workspace

Join a Community

1. Learn from the Pros

As in anything, first and foremost, we like to look to the professionals for advice. Seeing how Ernest Hemingway liked to write or reviewing Stephen King's routine are not only fun and interesting, they're downright educational.

And the best part is that every writing process is as unique as every writer. So go research your favorite author's writing process. Just make sure to take the tips and tricks that serve you — and leave the rest.

2. Set Writing Goals

We are firm believers in this one, and so are psychologists. Research shows that setting achievable goals (key word: achievable) is a concrete way to push yourself toward higher achievement, whatever that may look like for you.

It turns out that people who set goals are more self-confident, have higher levels of motivation, and are more independent.

Concrete goals give you something tangible to work toward, and that is often the difference between completing a manuscript and giving up entirely.

Learn how to set effective writing goals, backed by psychology, that will actually help you smash your word count targets right here.

3. Build a Routine

Some of the greatest writers of all time swear by their writing routine, and it's for good reason. Once you've set your goals, there's no better way to reach those goals than to make writing part of your everyday routine.

Of course, what that looks like will be different for everyone. You can find our best tips for building a writing routine that fits your lifestyle and creative process here.

4. Utilize Writing Sprints

So much of writing is managing your time. But how do you make the most of your time when the words just won't flow? Try writing sprints.

It turns out a little competition — with others or yourself — can really push the process forward, even when it feels like slogging through mud.

5. Make It a Habit

Humans are creatures of habit. Which is great, because habits free up mental energy by automating our actions and allowing us to focus on more complex tasks — like writing.

For example, when sitting down in your favorite armchair at 5 p.m. to write becomes a habit, you don't have to expend the mental energy deciding whether to do that. And that makes getting started a lot easier.

There are many ways we can leverage our tendency toward the habitual to aid us in the writing process. Good writing habits, when used correctly, can help us get into a regular rhythm that keeps us focused during our writing time.

Find out what habits experts recommend writers cultivate here.

6. Gamify Your Process

There's a lot of powerful neurochemistry that's unleashed by turning difficult tasks into a game. It's called "gamification," and there's a reason the most successful apps of today use it. (How many times has that sad little Duolingo owl shamed you into continuing your daily learning streak?)

The same methods work for writing, too. It's just a matter of implementing them into your own writing process!

We did the heavy work for you by creating Postbox Profiles, which track your key writing stats, and we put together this guide to help you gamify your own writing process.

Read the Gamification of Important Tasks

7. Create Your Workspace

We all have a place where we love to write. If we're lucky, we get to arrange it just the way we like it. The key is to create a space that helps you focus and inspires you.

Because that's the ideal writing space: whether it's a fixed point in your house, or a setup that travels with you, the point of this space is not to be pretty or professional, or to impress others or look good on social media.

The point is to create an ambience that gets you in the mood to write.

8. Join a Community

The act of writing is a solitary activity. But it's more fun when you can share that activity with others. As Writer & Agent Eric Smith says:

"Not only does [collaborating] make the writing process feel less alone, particularly in times that feel, and are, so wildly difficult to navigate. It can also make you a better writer. Because without a doubt, your collaborator will start to rub off on you in ways you don’t expect."

We couldn't agree more.

But how do you find one? A good place to start is by signing up for writing workshops and retreats. Find writing instructor Bryan Young's take on workshops and retreats here.

Bryan Young

Writer

Bryan Young is an award-winning podcaster, journalist, filmmaker, fiction and nonfiction author, and founding editor of Big Shiny Robot! Bryan has written in the official Robotech, BattleTech, Star Wars, Shadowrun, and Doctor Who universes, and teaches writing at conferences across the U.S. and at the University of Utah.

The Haunting

Hitting “publish” on an essay or a blog always stirs up insecurity — the overthinking, the over-editing. The fear that someone will call me out for not being a real writer.

I initially hesitated to make writing part of my freelance work. My background is in photography and design. Writing was something I gravitated toward, but I had no degree to validate it. No official stamp of approval.

Like many writers, I started with zero confidence in my voice — agonizing over edits, drowning in research, second-guessing every word.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

I even created a shield for myself: ghostwriting.

If my words weren’t my own, they couldn’t be wrong. Ghostwriting meant safety — no risk, no vulnerability, just words without ownership.

I still remember the feeling of scrolling to the bottom of an article I had written and seeing someone else’s name, their face beside words that had once been mine.

The truth is, I always wanted to write. As a kid, I imagined it. Yet, I found myself handing over my work, letting someone else own it.

I told myself it didn’t matter. It was work. Getting paid to write should be enough.

But here’s the thing: I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

I wasn’t just playing it safe — I was slowly erasing myself. Word by word. Edit by edit. And finally, in the by-line.

The Disappearing Act

This was true when I was writing under my own name, too. The more I worried about getting it right, the less I sounded like me.

I worried. I worried about how long an essay was (“people will be bored”), finding endless examples as proof of my research (“no way my own opinion is valid on its own”), the title I gave a piece (“it has to be a hook”), or editing out personal touches (“better to be safe than be seen”).

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting. Advice meant to help only locked me in. It created a sentence rewritten to sound smarter, an opinion softened to sound safer, a paragraph reshaped to sound acceptable.

I built a guardrail around my writing, adjusting, tweaking, over-correcting.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

It took deliberate effort to break this habit. I’m not perfect, but here’s what I know after a year of intentionally letting my writing sound like me:

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

But playing it safe makes the work dull. Writing loses its edge.

The Resurrection

The drive for acceptance is a slippery slope — one we don’t always realize we’re sliding down. It’s present in the small choices that pull us away from artistic integrity: checking how others did it first, tweaking our work to fit a mold, hesitating before saying what we actually mean.

And let’s be honest — this isn’t just about writing. It bleeds into everything.

It’s there when we stay silent in the face of wrongdoing, when we hold back our true way of being, when we choose work that feels “respectable,” whatever that means. It’s in every “yes” we say when we really want to say “no.”

If your self-expression is rooted in a need for acceptance, are you creating for yourself — or for others? Does your work help you explore your thoughts, your life? Does it add depth, energy, and meaning?

My work is clearer. It moves with my own rhythm. It’s less shaped by external influence, by fear, by the constant need to smooth it into something more polished, more likable.

I get it. We’re social creatures. Isolation isn’t the answer. Ignoring societal norms won’t make us better writers. Often, the most meaningful work is born from responding to or resisting those norms.

But knowing yourself well enough to recognize when acceptance is shaping your work brings clarity.

Am I doing this to be part of a community, to build connections, to learn and grow?

Or am I doing this to meet someone else’s expectations, dulling my voice just to fit in?

The Revival

Here’s what I know as I look back at my writing: I’m grateful for the years spent learning, for the times I sought acceptance with curiosity. But I’m in a different phase now.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

I know who I am, and those who connect with my work reflect that back at me — in the messages they send, in the conversations we share.

It’s our differences that drive growth. I want to nurture these connections, to be challenged by difference, to keep writing in a way that feels like me. The me who isn’t afraid to show what I think and care about.

So, I ask you, as I ask myself now:

If no one was watching, if no one could judge, what would you write?