9 nourishing ways to find more time to write
To write a book is to harness multiple resources — ideas, energy, craft knowledge, professional input, etc. — and lack of time can feel like what’s often thwarting us. I wanted to share what’s worked for me, in the hope it may contribute to a sustainable writing practice for you, wherever your manuscript, or life, is at. I’ve found each works individually but is most effective when used in concert, as an interlinked approach.
1.
Ask yourself what it would take for you to commit to a writing practice. Sit with the question. Allow your subconscious to bubble… What were you hoping to unearth when you read this headline? (There’s a hint in your instinctive response — pause and listen for it now before you read on. I’ll wait :)
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Is there a need for courage? Permission? A desire to know the outcome? A trust in yourself that you can commit? Faith you can deal with pushback from others — or yourself?
2.
Release the idea you need to do everything yourself, in any sphere of life. Practise ceding ownership of specific tasks — in whichever context is most appropriate for you. This may require discovering or clarifying:
the purpose of a task
whether it really needs doing or could be done differently
how to determine if the task is complete or the desired outcome associated with completion.
Yes, this does mean examining a need for control. Tricky territory but potentially ripe with reward.
3.
Align your creative work time with your natural circadian rhythm as best you can. If you’re most alert in the morning, write early; if you thrive in the evening, write late. You’ll know the bounds within which this is possible, just don’t bother trying to get up at 5am if you do your best work at 10pm. Let’s ditch the (outdated and incorrect) idea that rising early is synonymous with being a good person.
4.
Link the cerebral elements of writing with movement. Aid your research, mulling, planning and inspiration by listening to relevant audiobooks, podcasts, radio (yes, I’m very 1993 like that), audio courses — or silence — while you walk, workout, stretch, clean, etc. Prime your mind with what you need, so you can arrive at your desk refreshed and already feeling productive.
5.
Reduce your possessions. Repair, recycle, donate, sell what you no longer need or want. Time, money and psychological weight are all attached to storing and tending to our things. You change; your stuff can, too. Be mindful about what comes into your household. I’m not suggesting strict minimalism, unless that’s what you want, but given the 20+ times I’ve moved — next-door (true story), across the city, state, country and world — I now ask of my possessions, “Is this beautiful, useful or irreplaceable?”.
6.
Examine your defaults. What is not subject to any scrutiny in your life? Off the top of my head: How quickly you eat? When you touch your phone? Deciding what to spend time on? What others expect of you? Who decides what constitutes ‘urgent’? There are multiple ways to reclaim your attention and focus but, in my experience, they only tend to work long term if you’ve first revealled — and questioned — the status quo which is your personal default in relation to the multiple roles you play in your life.
7.
Prepare a space to write that you’re drawn to, one in which you want to spend time. Have anything you want there. Clear it or decorate it as you wish, as though it’s a mini retreat. Make a pact with yourself: when you’re there, you write. This is far more enticing than relying on willpower (depletable) or discipline alone. For the nomadic writer, use your favourite tools in places you enjoy. If writing in a digital environment, make it as attractive to you as you would a physical space. If you hate clutter, clean up that desktop, my friend. Now, make a writing date with yourself in this gorgeous space. Repeat.
8.
Know that the call to write does not go away if you ignore it and finding time will be an ongoing challenge until you decide it is important. Know if it matters to you; it matters. Let everything fall away for a little while and immerse yourself in dreaming, discovery, refinement. Let your imagination roam into the forgotten parts of you. Lean into the wind to catch that voice that feels far away at times. It has something for you. It is you. How wonderful.
9.
Become a voice. (Okay, this isn’t about time per se; more about why the time you’re carving out is important in the first place.) Write what you needed to hear. Write what strikes true for your heart. Write as the friend you wish to be. Write with the expertise you’ve acquired. Write one line in this moment; this is the only place you can create what you one day wish to hold. Write enough and you will find your voice along the way, it’s not a prerequisite for beginning. Good mentors and editors are allies who help you shape something distinctively yours, into what your readers need.
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If you’re wondering, yes, I used all these methods while writing GO: A memoir of wanderlust and anxiety. Check it out and see where to buy it, here. (As one book lover put it, “Start this book to read the author’s story; finish it to find your own”.)
Now, I’d love to hear from you: tag me on Instagram (@hellosaramoss) with a pic of your writing space; manuscript; where you are when you read this…
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