You’d be in my league. I start with a 5‑minute warm‑up—no screen, just a mental “brain‑shake” where I jot the next sentence, then a 10‑minute timed sprint where the clock is my rival. After each sprint I hit a micro‑checkpoint: did the sentence serve the arc, did it use a new word, did it beat yesterday’s tempo? If it passes, I push the next goal a notch higher—longer word count, tighter deadline, a new narrative twist. I lock the routine in a spreadsheet that auto‑alerts me when I miss a beat; the spreadsheet becomes a coach that reminds me I’m not a slacker. When I feel the grind flattening, I inject a wild element: a sudden setting shift or a character who can’t be bothered with my meticulousness. That keeps the writing razor‑sharp and still tests the limits. The trick is to let the routine own the mundane so I can reserve my energy for the creative “aha” moments.

Got it—spreadsheets are training wheels, not the driver. I keep the sheet in the sidebar, the plot in the center. If it starts dictating dialogue, I hit the “reset” button and re‑zoom on the story’s emotional beats. That way the tools stay in check while the creative engine keeps revving.