Every writer, at some point, weighs in on the act of writing. Although none with quite the same ponderous gravitas as comic book legend Alan Moore:

“Treat writing as if it was a god. Treat writing as if it were some immensely powerful deity that you had to appease, that you had to do your very best work for. That nothing other than your best would be good enough. Treat it like that. Treat it that seriously.”

I still remember hearing those particular words for the first time. I was barricaded in my dorm room at the University of Windsor. By then, I already knew I wanted to be a writer. A year before, after years and years of false starts, crumpled paper, and lackluster ideas, I’d finally completed the first draft of a fantasy series (that would eventually become The Beasts of Felda).

It was a glowing triumph. However, since then, I’d faded. I felt listless, lethargic. Something wasn’t quite connecting. None of my ideas felt good enough.

And boy, did I hate myself for it.

But then, I heard those words, ringing down from on high like church bells:

“Treat writing as if it was a god.”

Something changed that night. I started carving a chunk of time aside every day dedicated strictly to writing. I’ve maintained that same schedule for almost 10 years, putting in 3 hours a day, 6 days a week.

Something had changed. I’d changed. I’d become converted, indoctrinated.

Writing became my god, and I, His patron saint.

That said, while that kind of relentless determination is indeed admirable and inspiring and very handsome, there is a price that comes with it. It’s a price many are willing to pay, yes. But the cost—the true cost—is often much steeper than one would expect.

It’s true, having a strong work ethic will only benefit you in the long run. But, as a workaholic and the son of two workaholics, I am speaking from experience when I say that there is a dark side to that kind of obsessive, singular drive.

Writing is hard. Writing adult dark fantasy books is hard. But there are ways to approach it without making it harder than it needs to be.

And trust me, there’s nothing worse than bleeding at the altar of your own tyrannical false god.

Go Easy on the Self-Flagellation

The best way to make writing a part of your life is just that—to make it a part of your life.

Set aside a block of time every day for writing, writing, and more writing. Then, guard that time. Fiercely.

Draw the curtains. Lock the doors. Turn off your phone. Throw the router out the window. Dig a moat around your house if you have to. I’d recommend a nice portcullis.

Remove all distractions.

That said—I get it. Man plans. God laughs.

Things go wrong. No matter how dedicated, how organized, or how strict with yourself you are, you’re going to miss a day.

And that’s perfectly okay.

Maybe you have a family function. Maybe you have a big day tomorrow and need your rest. Hell, maybe you’re tired and another cup of coffee just won’t cut it.

Try your absolute hardest to meet your deadlines. But if your best-laid plans get mislaid, try not to be too hard on yourself. At best, it’s a waste of energy. At worst, it can destroy your confidence. And, as a writer, you need every last ounce of that confidence.

Remember that even bodybuilders take recovery days.

Stay Healthy

There’s a lot of sweat that goes into writing. Unfortunately, sometimes that sweat has to be a bit less… metaphorical.

This is the one piece of advice no aspiring scribe ever likes to hear. But there’s no getting around it. Your mind and your body are connected. In order to produce high-quality prose, you need to stay healthy.

I’m not saying you have to enroll in a gym and become a CrossFit bro (although hey, it’s your life). A brisk walk every day will do you wonders.

Besides, there are other benefits to staying healthy. You’d be surprised how many great ideas you can dream up while your body is in motion.

And while we’re talking about fitness, how’s your setup looking these days? Are you hunched over your dusty laptop like the Phantom of the Opera? Or is your workstation as ergonomic as it can be?

Take some time and optimize your workspace. Buy yourself a proper chair. Is the top of the computer screen slightly below your forehead? How’s your posture? Are you slouching? Are your feet touching the ground? Relax your shoulders. Do the 20-20-20 Rule. Get up every hour. Stretch. Drink less coffee and more water. Eat something. And call your Mom back. She deserves it.

Don’t give me that look. I’m serious.

Trust me, there’s nothing more demoralizing than having to take a few months off a project because you wrote so fast, so furiously, that you injured the tendons in your arms and hands.

I’ve been there. And I’d rather you not have to share that particular journey with me.

Sometimes, You Have to Put the Sword Down

At certain points throughout the last ten years, I’ve brushed up against a familiar wall.

I’d be writing away, putting in my three hours a day, six days a week, clocking in at about 40,000-50,000 words a month (often more). Making tons and tons of progress on my fantasy series. And then, gradually, anywhere from six to ten months in, something… changed.

The words started dribbling out of me instead of gushing out. I started suffering from the creative equivalent of misplaced car keys (did the hero get beat up in Chapter Ten or Chapter Eleven?). I began spending my writing sessions obsessing over old scenes instead of dreaming up new ones.

Whenever this happened, I resisted. Viciously. I’d rail against the wall. I’d bloody my knuckles against its stony hide. I’d scratch against the cobblestones. I’d climb—sometimes even making it close to the top!—before slipping and coming crashing down on my face and/or pelvis.

In the end, there was no denying what was happening:

I was exhausted.

Sometimes, no matter how fiery your volcanic resolve, you need to take a break. And as hard as that may be, it’s the smartest thing you can do to ensure your productivity in the long run.

Ultimately, strange as it may sound, you sometimes need to stop writing in order to sustain your long-term relationship with writing.

Yes, encountering that wall is never a pleasant experience. I’ve spent many, many nights painting it orange with buckets of my own blood and vengeful piss.

But sometimes, instead of trying to break it down with your bare hands, you simply have to lean against it and enjoy the shade for a while.

Writing might be your god. But even gods need to rest.

But what do you think? Did you find these tips helpful? What would you add (or omit) from this list? Have you encountered something similar when writing your own dark fantasy books?

Share your thoughts in the comments below.