Would I have written over 40 books in my lifetime if I'd had a dog that whole time?

Absolutely not. No chance. No way.

I would have had far less hours with my butt in a chair, head down and focused only on the words pouring out of my fingertips. And way MORE hours abandoning my craft completely to go walk in parks, meadows, and canal paths.

I would have spent far more time staring into her beautiful brown eyes and remembering that smelling the flowers is far more nourishing for the soul than staring at a screen.

My dog has taught me more about writing than anything else!

For starters, she doesn't care if yesterday was productive. Every morning is a fresh start for her. She wakes up excited about the day ahead, not dwelling on the chapter that didn't flow the way I wanted, or the rejection email that landed in my inbox. Writers could learn a lot from that.

She also reminds me to get outside.

Whenever I'm stuck trying to figure out a plot twist or dealing with a character who refuses to stop being a jerk to another character, the answer is usually revealed to me, bent down, picking up a poop, or halfway through tossing a ball that will inevitably land in a river, or on someone's balcony. 

That's what happens when my brain has finally stopped trying so hard. Fresh air has a funny way of untangling stories.

Then there's loyalty. Oh lord... she is loyal.

Dogs don't care how many books you've sold. They don't give a crap whether your latest idea shot to the top of the charts overnight or died a slow, painful death in the Amazon graveyard.  

They love you whether you've written 5,000 words in one day or five. In a world obsessed with numbers, reviews, rankings and algorithms, that's hugely grounding.

My dog celebrates the smallest things, like finding a lost tennis ball, jumping in a muddy puddle, or scoring an unexpected biscuit from the neighbour next door. 

As writers, we're often a bit guilty of racing towards the next milestone without appreciating the one we've just reached. Finishing a chapter deserves celebrating. So does writing the first sentence. Even opening the laptop on a difficult day counts for something, especially when you're not even feeling inspired to write.

Writing isn't just about discipline. It's about curiosity, patience and showing up consistently, even when progress feels slow.

Dogs understand that instinctively.

So if you ever find yourself staring at a blank page, wondering whether you've got another book in you, take a leaf out of your dog's book. Your dog will still think you're brilliant, whatever happens.

And if you don't have a dog?

Go for the walk.

Chase the metaphorical tennis ball.

Sniff out a new idea, away from the screen.

Then come home and write.