I don’t know about you but when I don’t get the opportunity to write each day, I begin to feel the nag of writer’s guilt. This writer’s guilt is no subtle little poke, but a blaring scream. Everything reminds me that I need to write, but life rushes on. When I don’t write I end up half-engaged in all of my daily activities until I get the time to get the words out. It’s like I have programed myself to judge a day’s success on whether I put words on the page or not.
Now, I love to write but I also love my family. I don’t want to be that distant husband or father figure whose wife and kids know only by reading his work. I want to be present. That means I must sequester my writing time to the tail end of the day or early in the morning, which means I cut out an hour or three of sleep.
My peak writing time is usually in the morning. I LOVE early mornings where nothing is about but my mind. When I can get up, write in my journal, read my Bible, enjoy a cup of coffee with a five minute slice of peace and write five hundred words, life is bliss. There is almost nothing that can happen in the day to break this shield of accomplishment. I like to roll out of bed around 6:30am to accomplish all of this. However, when I had kids, this changed.
Finding time to write is hard. In the world of parenthood sleep is not guaranteed and like most real life humans when I am robbed of it I get cranky. However, I must write. Such a conundrum, but one that offers a harsh answer. Keep going, get up, and write. For the writer there is no rest. I had better get used to that.