What I Didn’t Do to Achieve 20,000 Words in 5 Days

When I first created #20kin5Days, I had this vision of writers—myself included—sitting down, fully prepped, knocking out 20,000 words in five days like it was nothing. 

I thought if I had the perfect outline, the perfect writing schedule, and the perfect mindset, the words would pour onto the page like magic.

That did not happen.

Instead, I got stuck. Stalled out. Spent more time agonizing over how to write than actually writing. And when I did write? It felt forced, like I was wrangling words instead of letting them flow. That’s when I realized something crucial: writing challenges like this aren’t about perfection. They’re about momentum.

Over the years, I’ve fine-tuned this challenge to make it actually work—not just for me, but for hundreds of writers who have joined in along the way. #20kin5Days isn’t about grinding yourself into exhaustion or forcing words onto the page. It’s about learning to draft quickly, trust your instincts, and push past the self-doubt that keeps so many of us stuck.

But most writers (even the ones who love fast-drafting) approach high-output challenges all wrong. They think they need a meticulous outline, marathon writing sessions, and an ironclad willpower to stay on track. Then they burn out by day two, feeling like they failed before they even really started.

That’s why I want to share what actually works. In this series, I’m breaking down the biggest mistakes I’ve seen writers make during this challenge—and more importantly, what to do instead. If you’ve ever struggled with writing fast, staying motivated, or just getting out of your own way, you’re in the right place.

What I Didn’t Do (And Why It Didn’t Work in the Past)

I Didn’t Wait for Inspiration to Strike: If I waited for inspiration to strike before writing, I’d still be sitting here, scrolling Pinterest mood boards and convincing myself that technically that counts as working on my book. Inspiration is great when it shows up, but it’s also unreliable, inconsistent, and a little bit of a diva. If you’re aiming to write 20,000 words in five days, you don’t have time to wait around for the muse to grace you with her presence.

I used to believe that writing should feel a certain way—like I’d get hit with a sudden burst of creativity and the words would just pour out effortlessly. And sure, sometimes that happens. But most of the time? Writing is less like catching lightning in a bottle and more like starting an old car on a cold morning. You have to turn the key, pump the gas, and give it a minute to warm up.

The trick is to show up anyway. Start typing even when you don’t feel like it. Especially when you don’t feel like it. Because creativity isn’t some magical force that only visits when conditions are perfect—it’s something you build by doing. The more you write, the easier it becomes to tap into that flow state. Action creates momentum, and momentum fuels inspiration, not the other way around.

During #20kin5Days, I don’t sit around waiting for the perfect mood to hit. I set a timer, start writing, and trust that even if the first few sentences feel clunky, something will click. And it always does. Because the real secret to writing fast isn’t about being inspired—it’s about showing up, putting words down, and letting the process do its thing.

I Didn’t Edit as I Went: Editing while drafting is like trying to mop the floor while the bathtub is still overflowing. No matter how hard you work, you’re never going to get ahead. And yet, I used to do it all the time—fixing sentences, tweaking dialogue, rereading paragraphs and convincing myself it was just a little cleanup. It wasn’t. It was procrastination disguised as productivity.

When you’re writing 20,000 words in five days, there’s no time to second-guess every sentence. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s progress. You can’t fix a story that doesn’t exist yet, and stopping to polish every paragraph is a surefire way to stall out before you even get halfway through.

I had to train myself to let go of the need to tweak as I wrote. That meant ignoring typos, resisting the urge to rework awkward phrasing, and fighting the instinct to scroll back up and “just check” what I wrote two pages ago. Instead, I kept moving forward, trusting that I could shape and refine everything later, once the bones of the story were in place.

And you know what? It worked. My drafts were messy—sometimes hilariously so—but they were done. And a finished, messy draft is always better than a beautifully edited half-story that goes nowhere.

I Didn’t Outline Every Single Detail: I love a good outline. There’s something deeply satisfying about mapping out a story, organizing scenes, and pretending—just for a moment—that I have complete control over my characters. But when I first started doing #20kin5Days, I made the mistake of thinking I had to outline everything before I could start writing. I’m talking character backstories, scene breakdowns, thematic arcs—the whole thing. And you know what happened? I got so caught up in planning that I barely had time to write.

Over-prepping led straight to analysis paralysis. I second-guessed every decision before I even put words on the page. Instead of moving forward, I kept adjusting the outline, trying to make everything fit perfectly—as if I could somehow skip the messy first draft phase entirely. Spoiler: I could not.

The truth is, fast drafting thrives on flexibility. Having a loose roadmap is great, but the second I stopped trying to micromanage every scene, I actually started writing. I let the story surprise me. I followed the weird, unexpected detours. I stopped worrying about whether every moment made sense and focused on getting the words down.

And sure, the draft was a little chaotic—but every story needs revisions, no matter how much planning goes into it. The first draft’s job isn’t to be perfect. It’s to exist. And once it does, then I can go back and shape it into something stronger. But that only happens if I let go of the need to have it all figured out before I start.

I Didn’t Write in Huge, Unmanageable Blocks: I love a good outline. There’s something deeply satisfying about mapping out a story, organizing scenes, and pretending—just for a moment—that I have complete control over my characters. But when I first started doing #20kin5Days, I made the mistake of thinking I had to outline everything before I could start writing. I’m talking character backstories, scene breakdowns, thematic arcs—the whole thing. And you know what happened? I got so caught up in planning that I barely had time to write.

Over-prepping led straight to analysis paralysis. I second-guessed every decision before I even put words on the page. Instead of moving forward, I kept adjusting the outline, trying to make everything fit perfectly—as if I could somehow skip the messy first draft phase entirely. Spoiler: I could not.

The truth is, fast drafting thrives on flexibility. Having a loose roadmap is great, but the second I stopped trying to micromanage every scene, I actually started writing. I let the story surprise me. I followed the weird, unexpected detours. I stopped worrying about whether every moment made sense and focused on getting the words down.

And sure, the draft was a little chaotic—but every story needs revisions, no matter how much planning goes into it. The first draft’s job isn’t to be perfect. It’s to exist. And once it does, then I can go back and shape it into something stronger. But that only happens if I let go of the need to have it all figured out before I start.

I Didn’t Let Perfectionism Stop Me: If I let perfectionism have its way, I’d still be staring at a blinking cursor, trying to craft the perfect first sentence before allowing myself to move on. And let’s be real—that first sentence would probably still get rewritten five times in revisions anyway.

Perfectionism is sneaky. It dresses itself up as high standards and wanting to do your best, but really, it’s just procrastination in a fancy outfit. It convinces you that if you don’t get it just right on the first try, it’s not worth writing at all. And that’s how stories never get finished.

I had to teach myself that messy drafts are the foundation of great books. Not polished drafts, not flawless first attempts—just words on the page, raw and imperfect and full of potential. Fast-drafting forces you to silence that inner critic and get out of your own way. You can’t write 20,000 words in five days if you’re stopping every few minutes to tweak a sentence or second-guess yourself.

So now, I let the words be messy. I let the dialogue be clunky. I let the descriptions ramble. Because once the draft exists, I can shape it into something stronger. But if I let perfectionism stop me before I even begin, there’s nothing to fix. Nothing to refine. Nothing to grow into the story it’s meant to be.

What I Did Instead (And How It Helped Me Hit 20k)

Over time, I learned that the key to success wasn’t about brute force or marathon writing sessions. It was about working smarter, not harder. I set small, achievable daily goals. Writing 4,000 words a day sounded intense, so I broke it down into bite-sized pieces. Instead of focusing on the big number, I aimed for 500-word bursts. That felt doable. Five hundred words could be a conversation, a quick action scene, or a character’s internal monologue. Knocking those out in short sessions throughout the day made the overall goal feel way less intimidating.

• I used writing sprints and timers. Staring at a blank page for hours doesn’t work for me. But setting a timer for 25 minutes and racing the clock? That gets the words flowing. Short, focused bursts of writing kept my brain engaged and my momentum going. Plus, knowing I had a built-in break after each sprint helped me avoid that drained, staring-into-the-void feeling.

• I focused on action, not perfection. There’s something freeing about telling yourself, This doesn’t have to be good. It just has to exist. When I let go of the pressure to write beautifully crafted sentences on the first try, I actually wrote more—and often found unexpected gems in the mess. Done is always better than perfect.

• I prepped just enough but left room for discovery. I used to think I needed a meticulous, scene-by-scene outline to write quickly. Turns out, I just needed a solid starting point—some character sketches, a rough idea of where things were going, and a few key moments I wanted to hit. That gave me direction while still allowing for surprises, which kept the process exciting instead of rigid.

• I built in recovery time. Writing fast doesn’t mean grinding yourself into exhaustion. I made sure to take breaks, stretch, get outside, and do things other than writing so my brain had space to breathe. That way, when I came back to my draft, I wasn’t running on fumes—I actually had the energy to keep going.

This approach made #20kin5Days not just doable, but fun. It took the pressure off and turned writing into something I looked forward to, instead of something I had to power through.

You Don’t Have to Be Perfect—You Just Have to Show Up

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from #20kin5Days, it’s that writing fast isn’t about being perfect—it’s about showing up. Every single day. Even when the words feel clunky, even when your characters aren’t cooperating, even when you’re convinced that what you’re writing is absolute nonsense. Because the truth is, every draft starts messy. The difference between a finished book and an abandoned idea isn’t perfection—it’s persistence.

Looking back, the biggest mindset shifts that made this challenge work for me were simple but powerful. I stopped waiting for inspiration and learned that creativity shows up when I do. I let go of the urge to edit as I wrote, trusting that I’d have time to shape the story later. I gave up on over-preparing and left room for discovery, which made the process more fun and less like a chore. And most importantly, I stopped letting perfectionism slow me down.

This challenge isn’t about writing a flawless 20,000 words. It’s about building momentum, silencing that inner critic, and proving to yourself that you can write more than you think, faster than you think. The words don’t have to be pretty. They just have to exist. And once they do, then you can go back and refine them.

So if you’ve ever struggled with getting out of your own way, I encourage you to try fast-drafting. Give yourself permission to write badly. To experiment. To surprise yourself. You might just realize that the story you’ve been trying to perfect is already waiting for you—you just have to show up and write it.

Have you ever tried fast-drafting? What’s one thing you’ll do differently next time?