The Gift of Writer’s Time

I had a sudden urge today to write something that wasn’t one of my books. I then remembered I had this blog thing that I wasn’t making full use of and thought, hey, why not? I’m sure people will be vastly interested in my inner ramblings. So here I go…

Something compelled me to write this and it came from one sentence said to me recently after I had told an acquaintance when she asked what I do that I, now, consider myself a writer. I have a backlog of around nine books (two scheduled for publishing this summer 2017 by Pride Publishing). The person gazed on at me with awe, to which I obviously revelled in, and then she replied:

“I’d love to be a writer but I just don’t have the time.” 

Something struck me from this. The person has as much time as me. We all live in a twenty-four hour day. It’s not like I suddenly have extra time thrown at me. I don’t have one of those magic time pieces like Hermione Grainger. I, perhaps, choose what I do with my time differently. 

I, of course, understand that she meant enough time in her busy day because she works. I, sadly, or perhaps not so sadly, left my job back in September due to redundancy and kind of haven’t bothered looking for anything else to do, so yes I do probably have a bit more available time right now. But I do have two small children. One, of whom, is disabled and the main reason why leaving my job was the best choice I could make. My son’s appointments take up a rather lot of my time, plus all the forms I have to fill in for his needs, plus all the demands he adds to my day on a regular basis. Then there’s the school run for my other boy, the homework, the football matches, the games nights, the movie nights. 

Back when I started out with this writing lark, with the intention to do something about all the voices and stories that swam around in my head, I did have a job. So that’s two small children, one disabled, and a 21 hour a week job at a busy university department. In that time, I wrote four books (five, actually, if you consider one of those was eventually split into two) in one single year. Other’s have often asked where on earth did I find the time to do this? 

My answer now… it is the gift of writer’s time. 

I basically make time. I choose to write instead of doing all the other things I probably should do. Like right now, for example, I’m being taken out to dinner. Which is a lovely prospect. I’m not ready. Not even close. I know any minute now the door bell will go and I’ll have an earful about why I’m not ready. And why am I not ready? You guessed it, because I’m writing. 

I prefer to write than to watch television, than to bake, than to do arts and crafts, than to weed my garden (which is looking a bit Day of the Tryffyds right now). Some days I find myself going without eating because I am so immersed in writing. I choose to write instead of going to sleep even though I am ridiculously tired. I wake up in the night and write. I find any teeny tiny moment in my day to write. Waiting at a doctors surgery or hospital appointment, to which my son has many, and whilst he skips off to play with the duplo, I seize the opportunity of a few minutes to whack a few sentences down in notes on my phone. 

I glance at the clock whilst frenziedly typing and think, yes, I have one more minute before I absolutely must leave this house for one thing or another. I can get at least 200 words down in that time. They might not be perfect words and they’ll no doubt end up being deleted at a later date, but they are words and they are written.

So this rambling post was merely to highlight that if you really want to do something, or achieve something, its about making time to do it. We’re all busy people, whether we are parents, career people, students. But if you want to write, the beauty of it is you can pretty much write anywhere. I wrote the opening of a new story when I was waiting for a delayed train. I wrote a whole scene when I was in a hospital waiting room. I wrote an entire chapter in the middle of the night when my child wouldn’t sleep unless he was being held – he snored away on my lap and I tapped away on my phone. 

So, if you want to be a writer, it really is quite simple. Write. When you have time, of course.

And a nice gif to sum it up. Quite apt I thought 😉

The Gift of Writer’s Time

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