Every writer complains at some point that there just ain’t no time to write. I think as long as you love something enough, you’ll automatically make the time for it. Gee, that’s probably the only reason why my parents deal with a full-grown person living under their roof, drinking their coffee, and seeking their financial advice.
So if you don’t have the time to write, does that mean you don’t love it enough? Maybe. Maybe not. Think about it. Is the reason why you’re not writing because you don’t have enough time or because of another roadblock? For me, I’m pretty sure it’s not lack of time that stops me from writing. I’m on a work term and not doing any courses this semester, so I get home a little after five and usually have the whole evening to myself. But I’m a slave to this thing called the Internet, you see, where one dicks around Facebook and BuzzFeed and then goes to bed feeling guilty for wasting the entire evening away.
So I thought about how I could get over my Internet addiction. First, I acknowledged that the Internet isn’t something I can avoid completely. People who advocate for things like 30-day famines away from the Internet aren’t seeing reality. In this day and age, we need social media to know what’s going on. Without social media, I wouldn’t be able to participate in school club activities, at least.
I’m trying to follow a rule called No Technology 1 Hour Before Bed. That means, if I’m going to bed at 11, I turn off all electronics at 10. And read a book instead. Or get out my notebook to do some (“manual”) writing. This rule works pretty well when you have the discipline to say bye to BuzzFeed and funny cats.
Otherwise, there might be another reason that’s blocking you from writing that’s not time. Maybe you’re not inspired. Now, inspiration is a different topic, which I think deserves it’s own post. For now, though, I’m just gonna echo the age-old advice of “just write.” Even if the only sentence you can think of is “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog”, write it. I mean, like, it practices your handwriting at least…? You’ll never know where that sentence will take you.
A few nights ago I had the kernel of an idea to write about the life of a really, really boring person, and how strange things start happening to her day by day, the events getting stranger and stranger. I sat down with little more than that idea in my head, and all I’ve been doing for the last few nights is describing the boring life of this boring person. Often times, I don’t even know what’s going to happen in her day until my hand writes it down. Which is strange, but sometimes the brain knoweth not what the hand thinketh.
For now, all I’ve got down is there’s this really boring person, and each day something strange happens to her. So far the story is rather formulaic and the language bland, but I honestly don’t care. I’m writing something. Which is an accomplishment on its own. And when the time comes for the story to take a sharp turn, when the events coalesce into something fantastic, I think that will happen on its own time. Finding time to write also means finding time to wait.