Finding Time to Write (When You Don’t Have Any)

Time and time again, I’ve heard famous writers say their greatest advice is to write every day. Buns on the bench. Stephen King famously wrote about his 2,000 word-a-day habit. Haruki Murakami says he writes for five to six hours every day, without any variation. And for me, every time I hear a writer talk about their unwavering commitment to writing, I want to hide in a corner.

I ~gasp~ do not write pages and pages every day, and for a long time viewed this as evidence of my failure at being a writer.

That changed one year when I watched a panel of writers sharing their best writing advice. The first panelist answered immediately “write every day” with conviction, then he elaborated on why that matters—the repetition of creating a habit, of showing up even when you don’t want to, of continuing flow—all very good points that I agree with.

The next person, a successful woman writer who I adore, said, “Well, I don’t write every day. I think it’s a privilege to be able to write every day. I’m a mom, and I don’t get that privilege, even now in my career. So I write when I can.”

Most of us are not only writers. We have other roles, obligations, and interests that also matter—we are partners, parents, children, employees, neighbors—and commitment to those things doesn’t make you less, it makes you more.

Many of us don’t get the privilege of writing every day, of being able to prioritize chunks of time where we can produce pages of work. We have to take our kids to soccer practice, we have to check in on our aging parents, we have to make money, we have to make dinner (and often all of these things at once).

If you’re not writing every day, it doesn’t make you any less of a writer.

But there are ways to glean the benefits of a daily practice—the repetition of creating a habit, of showing up even when you don’t want to, of continuing flow—without the pressure of having a huge daily word count.

So here are some ways to write more—without pressure and without guilt.

I like to start each week with specific writing goals, like: this week I’m going to draft scenes about the character’s mother, or this week I’m going to revise that flash piece I’ve been sitting on.

This provides focus and helps keep me from feeling overwhelmed when I sit down to write. Instead of staring at a blank page, I know exactly what I’m doing and where to start.

I’m a big fan of having repeating rhythms to my day. If I’m introducing something new, like dedicated writing time, I try to piggyback off something I already do.

For instance, I add fifteen minutes of writing to my lunch break. It’s already built into my routine, so it’s not hard to attach 15 minutes of writing to it. Lunch → writing. It becomes a cue.

Seriously, who cares when you write or where you write or how long you write. Write on your notes app while standing in line. Use voice text while you’re walking the dog. Write non-sentences.

If you only write when the conditions are perfect, you’ll write less. A lot less.

And not everything you write needs to be good. In fact, most of it won’t be—and that’s not a failure, it’s just the process.

I know a lot of people don’t believe in working on more than one project at once, but I love it.

I almost always have multiple projects going—a draft, something in revision, maybe a short piece or idea I’m playing with. When one feels impossible, I move to another and that often gives me the space I need to return to the other one.

This keeps me in motion, especially when I’m stuck. It also takes some of the pressure off any one piece being the thing.

If you don’t have hours, look for minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. Even ten. I’ve found that if I have enough time to scroll on my phone, I have enough time to write a sentence.

Set a timer. Remove distractions. Write with focus.

You’d be surprised how much you can do in a short, intentional burst of time—especially if you already have a plan (see #1).

Reading, annotating, outlining, journaling, or even just thinking through a scene while you’re driving—these are all part of the process, and I “count” them as actual writing.

This may just be a mind-trick, but it works for me because some days, this is the writing.

Recognizing that helps you stay connected to your work, even when you’re not producing pages.

There will be weeks when writing doesn’t happen the way you want it to. Life gets in the way. You’ll be tired. Other things will take priority.

I’m in the middle of a move right now and every day is a new distraction. During the month of February, I don’t think I wrote more than a sentence.

That doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It doesn’t mean you’re not serious about your work.

It just means you’re a person with a full life.

Take a break when you need to. Come back to the page when you can. Keep going and don’t beat yourself up when it’s not perfect—there is no such thing.