Writing Rules
I wouldn’t recommend writing a book the way I wrote my PhD.
They say not to let your PhD become your whole life, and I absolutely let my PhD become my whole life for five years and seven months, in addition to publishing and doing everything else that comes with a doctorate, including conferences and hustling for funding.
Back then, I let my thesis take over my life like a possessed entity and didn’t set any boundaries. In fact, I am not sure that I knew what a boundary was. Having started a self-funded PhD off the back of a self-funded master’s degree, I was relying on habits that didn’t help me, even though I passed with no corrections.
Now, as I write this book about student-teacher sex and its challenges, I know I need to set better boundaries and look after my mental health.
So these are my writing rules for writing my book:
Time and space boundaries
No writing on weekends — this is not negotiable. Having two days away from the book helps me set a boundary and treat it like a work project (which it is anyway).
I only write Monday–Friday, and only between 8 am and 5 pm. No late nights, no “just one more paragraph”.
I only write in one room. I have set my second room up as an office, and my laptop does not leave that space. I can write at my desk, on the floor, in the mini library attached to my office, or on the day bed. This physically keeps my writing contained.
I use Post-it notes to mark where I stop and to remind myself where to pick up the next day, so I don’t write longer than I need to.
Emotional and mental health boundaries
If I am triggered, I stop. Either I take a break or I stop for the day.
I plan in advance before engaging with research material such as court transcripts or other confronting documents.
I move between chapters. If a section is too difficult, I work on something less upsetting instead.
I stretch before writing and during writing.
I take a proper lunch break, out of my office.
Therapy once a week, without fail and I don’t write afterwards.
I am medicated (SSRIs) and factor this into how I pace myself. I make sure I stay up to date with my medication and check in with my doctor when needed.
I pay attention to delayed emotions, such as anger or feeling upset later, not just in the moment.
My mental health is part of the methodology. Rest is not a reward; it is the spine of the book.
I stop when my body says stop, not when the argument feels finished.
Voice, creative freedom, and support
I write in my own voice. This includes swearing. I don’t waste time trying to sound like more than I am, and I don’t sanitise my language to make the work more palatable or respectable.
This book does not need to say everything. I am allowed to leave material out — for now or forever. Clarity and care matter more than exhaustiveness. I can do more than one book, write essays or short stories or not.
I share my work with a trusted friend who offers advice from a place of unconditional acceptance, support, humour, grace, wit, and love.
Permission and timeline
I give myself permission to write imperfectly, to stop, and to continue another day. This book is not my entire life and I do not forget that, ever!
My timeline is a guideline, not a rule. Writing this book within 12 months is a goal, not a demand, and I don’t punish myself if the work takes longer. There are no deadlines with this book, it’s not a doctorate afterall.
I am not writing a PhD. I do not need to prove my intelligence, endurance, or legitimacy. Passing “with no corrections” is not the standard I am reproducing nor is sounding like an academic.
