I have been on a lovely writing spree lately, spurred on by the discovery of several writing . As I've only recently started paying attention to these competitions, I had to rush to complete the first two pieces before the looming deadline. During the course of this writing, I learned a few things that will serve me well in the future. So here they are, recorded so as not to disappear from memory forever.

1) Organization: "Unreasonable haste is the direct road to error." - Molière

If formal education taught me anything, it's that failing to keep one eye on the deadline leads to eleventh hour stress and a rushed, poor-quality product. This is one of those indirect meta-lessons that the astute learn while in school and the rest of us pick up several years after graduating, if we're lucky.

To address this lesson I've printed out a blank calendar page exclusively for my writing endeavors. It only holds upcoming contest and contract deadlines and I keep another calendar for my personal schedule.

2) Drafting: "I'm writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so later I can build sandcastles." - Shannon Hale

The most important part of any piece of writing is, obviously, the writing. Not the punctuation, nor the grammar, nor even the style, but the plain and simple fact that there are words to be read. Write a solid structure first and dress it up with fancy stylings later.

For me, starting is the hardest part. Once the raw material is out in a concrete form, the rest flows naturally. So long as I followed my advice in #1 above, there should be plenty of time for shaping later.

3) Proofreading: "So the writer who breeds more words than he needs / Is making a chore for the reader who reads." - Dr. Seuss

This is partly a matter of style, as tasteful verbosity can bring a passage alive quite effectively. However, the situations when such writing is appropriate are few and the number of writers able to pull it off are even fewer. Generally speaking, compact sentences get the point across more clearly. Keep it simple.

3) Perspective: "No two persons ever read the same book." - Edmund Wilson

After countless hours of effort on anything, my point of view starts to warp. I no longer see the thing itself; I see what it was before and even this is skewed by all the effort I put into it. In order to judge the product on its own merit, I need either take a break for several days--tricky when facing a looming deadline--or recruit a fresh pair of eyes to point out what I can no longer see.

This was as simple as calling up a friend and asking him to read over my story. He not only pointed out some glaring faults, but also noted the piece's strengths. The balance of reassurance and constructive criticism was exactly what I needed.

4) Proofreading: "Self-publishing is not as easy as it is portrayed! When you think you have finished your book, proof read, proof read again, and again, and again. Don't believe it is ready until you have a hard copy proofed!" - Phil Simpkin

I learned this one the hard way. A few short days after submitting a story to a contest, I printed out a copy for a friend to read. Deciding to have another read through the story with fresh eyes, I noticed two glaring errors in the first two pages. I was mildly dismayed that I had missed them during my previous edits, but I had been doing those on the computer and this makes all the difference.

The above quotation says it all: print a hard copy of the final draft and proofread that before you even consider submitting your work. Let's be responsible though: reduce the print quality and either use scrap paper or print double-sided. Save the quality materials for the final submission.

5) Proofreading (Again): "Read your paper backward, sentence by sentence, as a final proofreading step. This technique isolates each sentence and makes it easier to spot errors you may have overlooked in previous readings." - Claire B. May & Gordon S. May

Proofreading is important enough to list twice and the above technique is quite brilliant. Don't get caught up in modifying the text during the final read-through. By this stage the piece should be complete and need but a touch of smoothing out.

I would suggest combining this recommendation with the previous one: print a hard copy and proofread it backwards.

6) Begin Again: "A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit." - Richard Bach

At the end of every writing project is another waiting to begin. Pick up the pen again and scribble something down. Get back to writing. Pour yourself into the words. There is no other way and there is no shortcut; momentary bursts of genius notwithstanding.

This bleeds over into general philosophic advice. When a task has been finished, leave it where it lies. Your work has been released into the world, and it now no longer yours. For better or worse, it is done. There is peace to be found in this realization, should you possess the strength of character to relinquish your grip.

There remains ink to be spilled, dear wordsmith.

I periodically meet individuals with a strong capacity for definitions. Betwixt poignant conversations on such subjects as the ethical ramifications of discovering a rock in one's rice pudding (to fling at the chef or to sue for dental damages?), I like to ask this question:

"What is discipline?"

The typical response is something along the lines of "having a plan and sticking to it" or "preferring future goals to present desires." Dictionary.com seems to agree, with definitions such as "training to act in accordance with rules" or "activity, exercise, or a regimen that develops or improves a skill."

Though commonly accepted, I find these definitions lack the immediacy that the word implies. The present moment is overshadowed in favor of a preferred future. Discipline even carries a distinctly negative tone, in the sense of doing something you'd rather not.

In order to reclaim discipline from the unsavory slag heap of "obligation," I thus propose a revised definition:

Discipline (noun): doing what needs to be done

The beauty of this version is that there are no plans involved; there doesn't even need to be a discernible future. There are only two things involved: 1) knowing what needs to be done and 2) doing it.

Objection! How are we to know what needs to be done? Are there not complex economic equations to be balanced against esoteric ethical doctrines and cross-referenced with the opinion of my guru/priest/dear Aunt Sally?

Rebuttal! Stop overthinking it. Dealing with the mounting trash heap that long ago devoured your measly garbage can is not a complex issue. I'm sure the fruit flies are great company, but everyone with a nose will thank you for doing the deed. You know it needs to be done, and the only thing holding you back is infinitely available reruns of Modern Family. Quit procrasturbating and slap on some rubber gloves.

The key lies in owning the impulse, because if it isn't there then no appeal to "rules" or "skill development" or "the impending collapse of civilization" will make a whit of difference. Discipline is not plans or skills or zombie preparedness, but the act of fulfilling those goals. Discipline is not practicing piano every day for three hours; discipline is embracing your piano-based desires and then playing piano for three hours each day instead of flicking bottle caps at the cat.

The heart of discipline is trusting the impulse that says, "Do it now!" This is what gets you off your ass and onto your back to work on those washboard abs, or off the computer and into bed at a reasonable hour, or away from the TV to mop the remnants of last night's dinner off the ceiling. There doesn't need to be some grand scheme or mighty payoff. Discipline is its own reward.