Finding Time to Write When Life is Already Full

Let me be honest with you: the romantic image of the writer sitting peacefully at a café, watching the world go by while crafting beautiful prose, is a luxury I never experience. Like many writers, I'm squeezing my creative work into the margins of a life that's already packed with responsibilities—a full-time job, family obligations, and all the daily demands that come with being a functioning adult in the modern world.

The Reality of Writing While Working

When people learn I'm working on books, they often ask, "How do you find the time?" The truth is, I don't find it—I have to fight for it, steal it, and sometimes beg for it. Most of my writing happens between 9:00 PM and 1:00 AM—usually the only time I can find to sit, think, and create. My writing happens during lunch breaks at work, and in those precious evening hours when the dishes are done and the house finally settles into quiet.

There are weeks when work projects consume every spare mental calorie, leaving me staring at a blank page with nothing to give. And there are nights when I choose sleep over sentences because my body simply demands it. Between my work as a computer programmer and the writing, I probably spend almost 16 hours in front of a computer screen each day.

The Guilt and the Grace

Perhaps the hardest part isn't the time management—it's the guilt. When I'm writing, I sometimes feel guilty for not being more present with my family. When I'm fully engaged in family time or work responsibilities, I feel guilty for not making progress on my books. It's a peculiar form of creative limbo that I suspect many writers navigate daily.

But I've learned to give myself grace. Every word counts, even if it's just one paragraph during a coffee break. Every character conversation I have in my head while helping with the dishes or folding laundry is part of the process. Every plot problem I solve while my wife shopped in Costco is progress, even if it doesn't immediately translate to pages.

Small Victories and Stolen Moments

When I really get going, I can crank out paragraphs pretty quickly. In high school, I took an elective course... it was called typing at the time. It was a throwaway course, something I could sleep through. Turns out the Franciscan Brother who taught the course disagreed with me—it wasn't a throwaway course. Under his gentle ministrations, I learned to type on an old electric typewriter. I thank him now as my fingers fly over keys, generating text almost as fast as I can think of it.

The key has been learning to see these fragments as valuable rather than insufficient. A full-time writing retreat would be wonderful, but there's something to be said for stories that are born in the real world, between real responsibilities, written by someone who understands what it means to balance dreams with duties.

Why It's Worth It

When someone asks me why I put myself through this juggling act, the answer is simple: because the stories demand to be told. "The Shepherd Descends" and "The World Below" aren't just projects I work on—they're narratives that have taken up residence in my imagination and won't leave until they're fully realized.

Yes, it would be easier to come home from work, help with dinner, watch Netflix, and go to bed. But easier isn't always better. There's something deeply satisfying about honoring the creative part of myself, even when it requires sacrifice and creative scheduling.

For Fellow Writer-Jugglers

If you're reading this and nodding along because you're in a similar situation, know that you're not alone. We're part of a community of writers who understand that creativity doesn't always wait for convenient timing. We write in margins and moments, and we're building something meaningful in the process.

Your writing matters, even if it happens fifteen minutes at a time. Your stories are valid, even if they're competing with soccer games and quarterly reports for your attention. And your commitment to your craft, despite all the competing demands, is actually a form of courage.

The books will get finished—maybe not as quickly as we'd like, but they'll get there. In the meantime, we're living full lives and creating stories that come from that fullness. And perhaps that's exactly the kind of authentic perspective our readers need.

How do you balance your creative pursuits with life's other demands? What strategies have worked for you? Share your experiences in the comments—we're all learning from each other.