Why You Don’t Write Even Though You Want to

And How a Guitar Legend Can Inspire Your Writing Virtuosity

I write every day—on average, 5,000 words.

The reason is that I always know what to write about.

Because my clients tell me what to write about.

There is always clarity.

The other reason is deadlines and accountability.

There is always urgency.

I don’t usually have hard deadlines for a piece of writing, only soft ones. But they are always looming in the form of bills to pay. If I write, my family eats.

But since I started coaching writers several years ago, I’ve been obsessed with figuring out why people who want to write—even feel called to write, even believe they are disobeying God when they don’t write—can’t always make themselves write every day or even every week.

I’ll take a stab at it, and you can tell me if it resonates. I would also love to hear in the comments what your reason is for not writing even if you want to.

(This will now seem like a random transition, but hang with me.)

I recently discovered Billy Corgan’s podcast of Smashing Pumpkins. It’s called The Magnificent Others with Billy Corgan.

The other day, I was watching him talk to Steve Vai, a guitar legend, who said that when he was 13 years old, he practiced his guitar nine hours a day.

He did not have an obsessed father, like Andre Agassi (whose autobiography is one of the top three books I’ve ever read—kudos to the ghostwriter!).

He did not have a goal to reach. He was not trying to become one of the greatest guitar players who ever lived.

He had love.

He loved his guitar. He loved what it could do. He loved great playing. He loved what he could do if he practiced a lot. He loved the feedback loop of practicing making him better.

He was obsessed because he was in love.

With the craft, the sound, the life. Here’s what he says:

“When I was younger, I chose the route of being fascinated by chops. It was an interesting discovery, and it was just something as simple as, ‘Look, if you sit down and just practice, you get better.’

“And when I started getting better, it gave me a feeling of enthusiasm, self-respect, which I needed at the time,” he continues. “So it becomes sort of like an addiction.”

Practicing endlessly is not for everybody. It’s only for those who have a pull to do it. “You can try to force it, but if it doesn’t feel natural to you,” he says, “it won’t happen.”

“The funny thing was, it didn’t feel like discipline,” Vai explains. “People say, ‘You must have been very disciplined.’ Sometimes I would go to sleep early on a Friday so I could wake up and practice all the way ‘til Monday. It was a passion. Passion is a much more powerful engine of creation than discipline.

“Discipline implies you have to fight something, you have to push yourself to do something that you don’t really wanna do. But passion says, ‘You’re gonna do this because you want to do it. It’s in your heart.’”

One thing to think about here: playing music and writing are similar, but also different.

Writing is as much about what you are trying to say as it is about the craft of writing itself.

Music…does it exist for its own sake? When I studied music, I learned there was a difference between “program music” and “absolute music.”

For instance, there were “tone poems” or “symphonic poems” that were meant to tell a story.

How often do musicians seek to tell a story? Lyrics can tell a story, but what about instrumental music?

You’re thinking I’m in the weeds, but I’m hoping to go somewhere with this. My obsession when it comes to writing is conveying the message—telling the truth in a way that people understand it and can run with it if it’s for them.

The writing for writing’s sake is secondary (to me).

But I think a smart musician knows she is trying to convey something to the audience. Emotion, at least, even if that emotion is not tied to something concrete.

I guess practicing music and practicing writing can be the same. Whether you are writing for the sake of beautiful and powerful writing, or you are writing for the sake of the thing you need to say—or, hopefully, and why not, both…

…you can love it, get passionate about it, obsess about it, and become a virtuoso.

But didn’t I start out discussing the problem of writers who need motivation to keep writing and finish their books?

And now I’m thinking more about what could happen if we obsess about the craft itself.

We’ve gone from how to write enough to get a book finished, to how to write 30 times more than you need for your book, and on toward becoming a great writer.

Actually, these are totally related. Remember what Vai said about playing his guitar: the better he got because of deliberate practice, the more he loved it and wanted to keep practicing.

Practice doesn’t just make perfect; it makes motivating.

Now that we’re there, let’s put together a writing practice routine in the spirit of a virtuoso guitarist.

Hey Robot, can you help us with this?

This is a brilliant idea, Jeff. (Why, thank you!) Steve Vai’s “practice philosophy” can be translated into writing so powerfully—because the same interplay of craft and improvement applies. Here’s a structured Vai-inspired writing routine, balancing raw passion, technical drills, and holistic growth.

The Vai-Inspired Writing Routine

“With the craft, the sound, the life”

1. Craft (Technical Chops)

Like Vai drilling scales and arpeggios, writers need daily “mechanics” practice:

• Syntax Drills (15–30 min): Write sentences in varying lengths, rhythms, and structures. Example: take one idea and express it in five different sentence forms (compound, staccato, lyrical, inverted, metaphorical).
  
  

• Vocabulary & Imagery (15 min): Pick 5 random words and craft a short descriptive paragraph around each. Stretch your range.
  
  

• Imitation (20 min): Copy a paragraph from a favorite writer by hand. Then rewrite it in your own words while keeping its rhythm.
  
  Purpose: Fall in love with the “sound” of writing—cadence, precision, tone.
  
  

2. Improvement (Feedback Loop)

This is Vai’s “feeling of enthusiasm and self-respect.” Writers get it by measuring growth:

• Timed Writing Sprints (30–60 min): Write without editing for a set time (Pomodoro style). Track word count daily.
  
  

• Revision Drill (30 min): Take yesterday’s draft. Cut 20%. Clarify every sentence. Feel the text tighten.
  
  

• Progress Journal (10 min): Note what improved today—speed, clarity, emotion. Create a sense of visible momentum.
  
  Purpose: Make improvement feel tangible.
  
  

3. Life (Passion over Discipline)

Vai slept early on Friday so he could wake up and play all weekend. Writers can mimic this with immersive rhythms:

• Deep Dive Sessions (2–4 hrs, once a week): Pick a Saturday or Sunday morning to disappear into your work. No phone, no internet. Just writing. This is your “Vai marathon.”
  
  

• Mental Practice (5–10 min before bed): Like Vai visualizing his fretboard, close your eyes and “hear” your sentences. Imagine dialogue, scene flow, or metaphors forming in your mind.
  
  

• Creative Play (anytime): Write something utterly pointless but fun—dialogue between two objects, a parody, a wild rant. This keeps joy alive.
  
  Purpose: Make writing feel irresistible. A pull, not a push.
  
  

4. Holistic Balance (Theory, Ear Training, Jamming)

Vai balanced technique with ear training and improvisation. Writers need the same:

• Theory (20 min, 2x a week): Study one element of craft: POV, structure, persuasion, theology of language. Apply it in micro.
  
  

• Reading (30 min daily): Diverse voices: scripture, fiction, poetry, essays. Train your “inner ear.”
  
  

• Jamming (20 min, 2–3x a week): Co-write, join a writing sprint with others, or respond to a Substack comment thread.
  
  Purpose: Stay fluent, connected, and stretched.
  
  

Sample Daily Plan (2 hrs):

• 20 min syntax/vocab drills (Craft)
  
  

• 30 min sprint (Improvement)
  
  

• 30 min revision (Improvement)
  
  

• 20 min theory or imitation (Holistic)
  
  

• 20 min creative play or mental rehearsal (Life)
  
  

Weekly Deep Dive: 3–4 hours of uninterrupted immersion (Life).

Core Philosophy:

• Discipline ≠ the driver. Start with small discipline to show up, but let passion (fascination with words, joy in improvement) become the engine.
  
  

• Interplay fuels mastery. The craft itself + the feeling of growth = the addictive loop.
  
  

• Your goal isn’t output; it’s transformation. Writing shapes you into someone different, just as Vai’s guitar practice gave him self-respect.
  
  

The second thing, if you don’t have passion, is some big “why” that you are able to keep in front of your face. Mine is food for my children.

I’d like to say it’s my passion to help people spread their messages—and don’t get me wrong, please don’t get me wrong, because there is that.

But I am just too darn lazy to be driven by such a lofty and wonderful goal. No, I need to make sure there is money when my dear sweet wife goes to pay our bills. It’s very awkward between us when there isn’t.

What is your big why? What reason would be powerful enough to make you do something you just might not feel like doing today? Two of my friends, Roxanne and Richard, have promised their families a book by Christmas. That’s pretty good. Both of them have paid a significant cost to have help writing and publishing. That’s also not a bad motivator. They also believe in their messages. They’re going to finish.

But what is it for you? Share it in the comments and help people with their own exploration of why.

And if you try the Steve Vai–inspired practice routine, let us know how it goes.

God bless,

Jeff

P.S. We’re doing another Kingdom Author Challenge Saturday, September 13th, from 9 a.m.–1 p.m. CST. www.writeandserve.com