Writing in the small moments
For a long time, I thought writing looked a certain way.
I thought being a writer meant having no day job. Endless free time. Quiet hours to sit at a desk and write pages and pages every day. I thought books were written in big, uninterrupted stretches, and that if you were really serious about writing, you’d be able to finish one in a few weeks.
That’s not my reality.
And learning to accept that has been one of the hardest parts of this journey.
What Writing Actually Looks Like for Me
Writing for me now happens in stolen moments.
On weekends or days off work, I usually wake up early, make a coffee, and sit down to write before the house fully wakes up. Those quiet mornings are gold — but they’re rarely uninterrupted. Kids need things. The house needs attention. There are chores, study, errands, and trying to keep some sort of social life alive.
I try to write after work too, but more often than not it doesn’t happen. By the time I’ve finished a full day at work, made dinner, sorted the kids, and attempted to get my toddler to bed, my brain feels completely fried. Some nights I just don’t have anything left to give.
And that’s when the guilt creeps in.
It often feels like I’m not giving writing enough time. Enough focus. Enough energy. Like I’m constantly falling short of what a “real writer” should be doing.
The Feeling After I Write (Even a Little)
But here’s the thing.
When I do manage to write — even just a paragraph, or a few sentences — I feel accomplished. Proud. Lighter.
And once I start, the ideas don’t stop.
I’ll be doing the washing, getting ready for work, or lying in bed thinking about what my characters might say next, or how a scene could unfold. Suddenly I want nothing more than to sit back down and keep going… and it actually makes me a little sad that I can’t.
Those moments remind me that writing isn’t gone from my life. It’s alive and loud in my head, even when I don’t have the time to put it all on the page.
Redefining What It Means to Be a Writer
For a long time, I believed a “real writer” was someone who:
Had hours and hours to write
Could sit down every day and produce pages
Made visible, fast progress
Now I know that isn’t true.
A real writer isn’t defined by time.
Or word count.
Or perfect writing conditions.
A real writer is someone who writes.
Even one sentence counts.
Even writing in your head counts.
Even opening the document and fixing a line you wrote last week counts.
It’s all progress. It’s all movement forward. And it’s one more sentence than you had before.