I admit it. I have done a terrible job training my pups, Misha, now 7 years old, and Moke, 4. You would think that, being on my fifth and sixth pup, I would have figured things out by now. But managing work, the house, life maintenance, and the occasional social life always seems to get in the way. So, the necessary practice doesn’t happen, and habits are not reinforced—at least not the good ones.

With one notable exception.

My dogs and I take a two- to three-mile off-leash dog walk every morning, which does explain why their on-leash behavior is so atrocious. We hardly ever cruise around our neighborhood. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. But they have absorbed one lesson during our daily walks.

At least two years ago, maybe three, I decided they needed to stop at trail crossings, so they didn’t tear off in the wrong direction. To cement that, whenever we hit a junction, I yell, “Crossroad,” and they get a dog cookie.

This training routine has been so consistent that if we hit a trail intersection and I don’t start digging into my pocket for a cookie, they will gently, or insistently, let me know that I have forgotten something important.

Writing works the same way. Expecting it to happen here and there often means that it doesn’t happen at all. Just as with my dog training, life will absolutely get in the way. Find weekly time slots that work for you, schedule them on your calendar, however, and respect that time blocking, and suddenly not only does the writing materialize, but it comes more readily, more easily. And that’s the reward that will cause you to stick with your new habit that you’ve successfully trained yourself to follow.

It’s all a question of priorities, routines, and regular reinforcement. And perhaps the occasional resolution that one actually keeps.