Sometimes I beat myself up about not writing more. And I should be writing more, don’t get me wrong.
But I sat down to write today and it was 3:58 pm.
I knew roughly what I needed to write (because I’ve outlined this thing). I knew the characters I was writing about (because I’ve sketched them out). I knew that I was only really writing about one transaction and then throwing in a ‘wha—?’ at the end of the scene.
And I wrote it, pretty much that easily.
And now it’s 5:56. Just like that. Boom…two hours later. Time-travel!
It worked because I had no other responsibilities. No one interrupted me. I didn’t have to stop for anything, pick anyone up, make food for anyone, fill in any forms, or answer any phone calls.
Theoretically, I could do this every day, while my kids are out at school and my husband’s out at work. And that’s certainly the aim.
But I just wanted to capture this here. Because that was two solid hours of bum-in-chair, tippety-tapping away at the keyboard on a story that I’d already done most of the planning for. 1935 words. Two hours.
Writing takes time. And focus.
I can still write when I don’t have both, and when the stars don’t align, but it’ll be harder. And I’ll have to try harder. And I should be kind to myself if every day doesn’t go like this (which it won’t). Which is not to say, ‘make excuses for myself’. This was a good writing day. One to shoot for.
Bum-in-chair, lassie. Every day.