Hello small space, hello beautiful people who check in.
There have been tumbleweeds around here lately. And that’s okay. I had to let go of one thing to make time for another. Read more
A change in direction: the Book
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t publish a style post last Saturday. The world kept on her axis. No plagues fell from the sky. Even I wasn’t too bothered.
I have a notebook full of ideas. Enough content to keep me writing pithy little posts about style for ages. But last week didn’t have enough space to steal. Actually, that’s a lie. There is always time somewhere. Books that didn’t have to be read. Social media scrolling that could have been cut short. Mornings that could have started earlier. Read more
6 Ways to Sneak Writing Time
Some of the world’s best books have been written in an hour a day over months.
I saw Elizabeth Gilbert speak earlier in the year and this is what stayed with me. In all her practical glory she pointed out that every writer wants acres of time, a pretty loft and an inspirational view. No one gets that. If you wait around for the perfect time, perfect space and perfect level of inspiration, you won’t write.
As a working mum, I snatch at time to write. Beg, borrow, sneak and steal it. It’s important to me so I follow it. If writing wasn’t a need, I wouldn’t treat it like one. But it is and so I try to fit it into my busy life as best I can. There is no loft, no pretty view (only chores undone) and sneakily small cracks which I stuff with words.
So how do I do this? Find these small spaces of time to write and make the most of them?
All the wasted words
This will be my 223rd blog post. At around 600 words per post, that’s 133,800 words. The average novel is 80,000 words long. If I had taken all those words, all that inspiration, all that time, I would have written one and a half books by now. For someone with “write a book” firmly at the top of their bucket list, this is a sobering thought.
The Stories in the Campground
Not so long ago I spent nine days camping by the beach. I didn’t write. I checked social media sporadically. I posted a few photos of the beach and the cute take-away coffee cups that I drove 40 minutes each morning to acquire. Mostly I just hung out with my family and friends.
And as I took a break from writing there were stories all around me. Holiday places are like that. Hotels and airports and camp-grounds, full of people and possibility. All travel is fertile ground for guessing at stories and making your own. Read more