Some days pass along like a hamster on a hamster wheel, frenetically spinning along and going nowhere. The sweat is real, and perhaps the goal is too, but the result – not so much. To some extent, we relish these moments, where we spin along, not having to engage our brains in strategizing the next move, rethinking and reorienting our minds and bodies to accomplish tasks that happen with predictability. Get up, grab that coffee, shower, get dressed, grab your bag and keys, jump in the car, and go. You might be vaguely aware of your surroundings on that trip to the light at the end of the subdivision, or perhaps not until you see semi taillights on i95.

Is that bad? Perhaps not. Particularly as we age, not having to go down the list of “First I will…” and “Then I will…” papers over the gaps in our memories. Mental muscle memory facilitates the goal of getting those things out of the way so that we can reach the next level: being intentional, wherein we’re fully engaged in what we’re doing, how we’re doing it, and why we’re doing it.

But it should never replace the goal of being intentional. It is one thing to get yourself from home to work and work to home. But it shouldn’t be a full cycle without intention built into the gaps in between. At that point, whole days disappear into a haze of getting up, getting going, getting there, going home, going to bed. Intention is gone, time has passed, and we have nothing to show for it—save perhaps a paycheck. But honestly, has a paycheck ever given back time spent loving, being loved, or feeling, well, anything other than drone-like semi-awareness?

The monotony of our daily routines can be comforting, providing a predictable structure. But this autopilot mode can seep into our creative endeavors. Just as we can drift through our days without intention, we can also find ourselves writing without purpose. This is where the practice of intention becomes crucial—not just in our daily tasks but also in our writing.

As writers, we strenuously avoid trying to write the same thing over again, but that doesn’t stop us from doing redundant things: like falling back on cliches, overusing certain phrases, adverbs, sticky (glue) words, other assorted ash and trash that often litters our shitty first drafts – the infamous version zero. With intention, we can weed these out; without intention, we end up with the sort of prose that causes migraines for our teachers/editors/bosses and induces boredom in our readers.

Perhaps the most pernicious issue writers have is trying to keep on track with the purpose of a scene or the flow of a discussion. It is easy to “wander off in the weeds” away from your goal. Stay true to your intention and eliminate anything that sidetracks and distracts. Even if it means “murdering your darlings,” those kitschy ideas, unrelated subplots, hidden agendas, and witty phrases that entertain us but aren’t meaningful or worse lead readers to the exits.

So, writers—be intentional—get off that hamster wheel—get to where you want to be and take the rest of us. You’d be surprised at how many people enjoy an all to brief escape from the purgatory of doom scrolling, and if you’re lucky, they will thank you, too.