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Before the COVID pandemic, before Simone was born, I would often start my day getting some coffee, kissing my husband Tony goodbye as he headed off to work, and settling back in bed with my laptop propped up on a pile of pillows.
Then, I’d write.
Having spent both time as a freelancer and as someone with a full-time job, this felt like one of the big luxuries of working for myself. No office to rush to in the morning. No rush hour hordes of bodies to navigate on the subway. Just my cozy bed, my laptop, and me. And that gift that I took for granted: time to write.
Two things happened simultaneously in my life and the world: the pandemic and my first baby. Suddenly everything was transformed. The subways were empty, anyway, everything was scary and tenuous. There was definitely no “starting my days,” just a fuzzy, exhausting, mind-numbing monotony of changing diapers, nursing, pumping, shushing, walking with Simone in her carrier, nursing some more, and an occasional deadline to remind me of days passing by. Suddenly even finding time for a shower felt extravagant.
In the 16 months since, things have slowly changed and changed and changed again. Every time I think I’ve gotten into a good rhythm, they shift. Simone sleeps through the night. I take the subway, sometimes, and it is cleaner than I ever remember it being before.
“The only lasting truth is Change. God Is Change,” said Octavia Butler.
What has remained constant is my sense of overwhelm.
In my experience, writing while overwhelmed is tough. I need some deep breaths, some room to play and wonder on the page, and a chunk of uninterrupted time, even if it’s a small one.
But if I hang around until magical, ideal conditions arrive, they will never come. Waiting for inspiration to strike has never worked for me. (I will literally do laundry to avoid writing. Don’t get me wrong, I love writing, but there’s something a little painful about starting, about staring down a blank page.)
I’m someone who thinks, feels, and processes as I write. I need that time with me and my laptop and a Word doc to see what unfolds.
I wrote a little bit about my writing process here. These days, my biggest challenge has been prioritizing my own writing, my own creative projects. The copywriting/editing/teaching/consulting work I do seems relatively like such low-hanging fruit, such an easier and more satisfying prospect than digging into the unwieldy project that is my next book. Plus, people are waiting for me. I get to invoice after. There is only so much time in a day, and I feel like I am chronically, painfully behind. (In reality, I am super hard on myself, and I am usually perfectly on time. But it doesn’t feel that way.)
I had a sort of breakdown about this very thing last week, and Tony gave me the best mega pep talk I could have asked for. He basically reminded me that when it comes to my work, I am an author/writer first, and a copywriter/(insert all the other jobs I do) second—not even a close second if I am honest about my heart’s priorities.
So how do I put my money where my mouth is—make my actual life reflect these priorities? How do I give the time, love and energy that moves the needle forward on the things I care about?
In other words, how do I make that precious, sacred time to write?
Last week, I carved out three days as writing days. I didn’t let myself do any other work until I spent a solid chunk of time (nothing super extravagant, an hour!) working on my own creative writing, a proposal for what I hope will be my next book. Let me tell you, it was hard. And also, it felt really, really good. Big exhale good. Creative juicy good. A little bit of magic good.
I don’t have this solved. How do moms find time to write? How does anyone? I don’t know the answer. But I’m going to keep trying to figure it out.
PS I have some huge, exciting news. My new book Plenty: A Memoir of Food and Family is an Amazon First Reads pick. The book officially launches September 1, but Prime members can get it NOW! Please order it, read it, review it on Amazon and/or Goodreads, and know my gratitude is deep and real.