Real life often gives us no time to write.
In an ideal world, we’d all have that perfect writer’s schedule. We’d rise early and toss out five-thousand words before breakfast. We’d lead off lunch with a few hundred more, and after the kids were in bed, conclude the day with another thousand just because.
My life certainly looks nothing like that. Does yours? From personal experience, I’m here to tell you how to write when you have no time.
I assume it was a typo. It should have been “The early bird gets the word.” Why? Because writers who want to be more productive need to start getting up earlier.
Now, before the night owls start hooting at me, let me make my case—a very unscientific and highly personal one.
Three years ago, I was like many of you. Just starting out. Not a clue which way to go. I had an idea for a book and that was it, but I wanted to become a full-time writer.
Fast forward a couple years, and I’m doing this for a living (on top of being a stay-at-home dad). I make a living writing fiction, but everything didn’t converge until four months ago. So what did I do to get here?
As a writer, it’s easy to get sucked into the mundane world of dirty sweatpants, stale coffee and cold pizza. I mean, who really needs to see us while we’re writing, right?
While that may work for a time, pretty soon we become hermits, hoarding our words, shunning the light and developing a Smeagol-like complexion. Gross.
How many times have you wanted to write, but just couldn’t get anything out? How many times have you procrastinated, coming up with some seemingly valid excuse to avoid writing?
We’ve all been there. The challenge is getting out of our funk. The solution is simple: action. The book that taught me how to take action as a writer was “The War of Art.” Let’s skim over a handful of my favorite quotes from Steven Pressfield’s epic kick-in-the-arse.
I love writing. Isn’t it obvious? I mean, I spend my days and nights clacking away, ignoring the world, crafting my latest tome. And yet, every once in a while, the doubt creeps in like a slithering python, ready to chomp down on my creativity.
Why is that? Why can writing be so durned frustrating?
