When Do I Find the Time to Write?

People sometimes ask me how I find the time to write.

The honest answer? I don't. Not really.

I steal it.

I have a full-time job, a family, and all the usual chaos that comes with having a life outside your own head. There are dinners to make, things to fix, places to be, and a hundred little jobs that somehow need doing every day.

Then there are films. A lot of films. I write for a film and TV blog, so watching movies isn't entirely me sitting on the couch pretending it's research. Sometimes it actually is research. Other times it's just me sitting on the couch watching a monster tear someone's face off.

And somewhere in amongst all of that, I try to write.

Short stories. Novels. Blog posts. Half-baked ideas that have been rattling around in my head for years and finally decide they want out.

So when do I actually do it?

Usually, the early hours of the morning.

There's something about being awake when most of the world isn't. The house is quiet. Nobody needs anything. The phone isn't buzzing. There are no emails demanding attention. No one is asking what's for dinner. It's just me, a coffee, and whatever stupid idea I've decided is important enough to lose sleep over.

Sometimes I'll get several hours. Those are the good mornings. The ones where the words come easily and I look up and realise I've been writing for three hours.

Other times, I've only got an hour.

That's fine too.

An hour is still an hour.

And sometimes I sit there for an hour, stare at the screen, write three sentences, delete two of them, and wonder why the hell I do this to myself. That's part of it. Writing can be frustrating as hell when you're tired, when the words aren't coming, or when you've got a hundred other things competing for your attention.

But I've realised something over the years: if I keep waiting for the perfect time to write, I'll never write anything.

There will always be work. There will always be family stuff. There will always be another film to watch, another article to write, another load of washing that apparently won't fold itself.

So I take the time when I can.

Sometimes it's three hours. Sometimes it's one. Sometimes it's twenty minutes.

The important thing is that I sit down. Because twenty minutes of writing is better than twenty minutes of thinking about writing.

And that's probably the secret—not finding time, but making a little space for it. Even when you're tired. Even when you're busy. Even when you'd rather watch one more episode.

Especially then.

Because those little chunks add up. A page becomes five. Five becomes twenty. Twenty becomes a story. And eventually, if you're stubborn enough, you might even end up with a novel.

So that's how many hours I write: as many as I can steal.

Usually in the early hours, when the world is quiet and my brain is finally left alone to make whatever weird, dark, occasionally ridiculous thing it wants to make.

It isn't always easy. Sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes I get nowhere. But I keep doing it. Because if you want to write, at some point you have to stop waiting for the time to appear and take it.

So tomorrow, I'll probably get up early, make a coffee, open the laptop, and see what happens.

And hopefully, somewhere in those quiet hours, I'll get a few more words down.