You love writing. It lights you up, grounds you, and reminds you that you’re more than your to-do list.
But when you’re juggling work deadlines, school pickups, dinner prep, laundry piles, and maybe a half-hearted attempt to move your body or drink enough water, writing becomes the the first thing to go.
Sound familiar? It does to me, that’s for sure.
The first thing you need to know is you’re not doing it wrong.
You’re just living real life.
But here’s the good news: You can keep writing, even when your plate is overflowing. And, no, it doesn’t require getting up hours before the sun or giving up your nightly sit-on-the-couch-and-don’t-think time.
It just requires shifting how you think about what kinds of writing “count” and learning to weave your creativity into the life you already have.
Here’s where I vote you get started:
1. Stop Waiting for Big Blocks of Time
Most of us are conditioned to believe that “real writing” requires long, uninterrupted stretches—hours of silence, candlelit desks, hotel room retreats, or coffee shop mornings.
But that’s a myth. And good thing, too, because for most working moms, these dream scenarios arrive once in a blue moon.
Sustainable writing doesn’t require perfect conditions. It happens in the margins. Ten minutes before bed. Five sentences in the carpool line. A voice memo during your lunch break.
You don’t need to find more time. Your calendar’s about to explode as it is. You just need to embrace the fact that small moments matter.
A ten-minute writing session might not sound like much, but it gets you ten minutes closer to your story than doing nothing at all. And it trains your writing muscles to crave the next micro session. Over weeks and months, those micro sessions add up.
2. Lower the Bar (In a Good Way)
Perfectionism kills more creative joy than lack of time ever could.
I’ll say it again for the people in the back myself:
Perfectionism kills more creative joy than lack of time ever could.
When you’re already burning the candle at both ends, your fear of writing something “bad” can chase you away from the page faster than the toddler chases the cat into the closet. (Just me? Oh.)
The goal in these moments is not perfection—it’s connection. You’re connecting with your novel in order to make small, sustainable progress that builds creative trust and moves you toward your biggest creative goals. You’re showing your brain: I still write, even when it’s hard. That trust keeps the flame alive through the messy seasons so it can burn bright in the easier ones.
3. Create Gentle Cues and Rituals
When you have limited time, you can’t afford to waste energy on decision fatigue. A fifteen-minute session gets eaten up quickly if you spend the first ten getting in the zone.
That’s where rituals help.
Maybe you light a candle before you write. Maybe you always open the same playlist. Maybe your “writing ritual” is as simple as pouring tea, opening your notebook, and breathing for thirty seconds before you begin.
Over time, these small cues come to tell your brain it’s time to write.
You’ll be amazed how quickly even a two-minute ritual can help you drop into focus mode.
4. Redefine What Counts as Writing
Think you have to have the perfect, neatly organized desk setup in order to actually write?
Guess what? Some of your best creative work won’t happen at your desk.
It’ll happen while folding laundry. Or while driving home from daycare. Or while standing in the shower, replaying a scene in your mind.
That mental storytelling counts.
Instead of feeling frustrated that you’re “not writing,” try acknowledging the creative work happening behind the scenes. Jot a few notes in your phone when the idea crops up (or once you’re safely parked, if you’re driving home from daycare!).
Those breadcrumbs will build on one another, and they’re likely to lead to your next breakthrough.
5. Protect a Little, Let Go of the Rest
Bad news: You can’t protect all your writing time. But you can protect some of it.
I’ve learned this the hard way. Do I want to spend an hour writing for myself three days a week? Absolutely. Can I, realistically? Definitely not.
But I can set a 30-minute writing block on Sunday afternoons and guard it fiercely. (I do! My husband guards his Sunday mornings, and I guard my Sunday afternoons! It’s a system that works well for our families, so we lean in.)
I can leave my notebook on my nightstand and write three to five sentences before bed each night. (I don’t! I fall asleep the second my head hits the pillow! But maybe this system would work for you?)
The point here isn’t rigid discipline or squeezing writing into every single free moment—it’s gentle commitment to a rhythm that works for you, and it’s a reminder that you’re writing matters.
6. Let Seasons Be Seasons
There will be seasons when you write more, and seasons when you rest or refill the well. Some seasons will last days or weeks; others might last months or years. Instead of judging yourself for the ebbs, recognize that they’re part of a sustainable, long-term creative practice. The key is to stay connected to your identity as a writer, even when you’re not producing much. You can pause without quitting.
Forgive yourself for the time off, and find gratitude for the experiences you’ve had in that time that will ultimately fuel your writing today.
You’re a Writer, Even Now
You don’t have to earn the title “writer” by producing a certain number of words each week. Or by writing 50,000 words in November. Or by publishing three short stories in Q4.
You’re already a writer. You’re a writer because you notice, you imagine, and you care enough to keep going, however imperfectly.
So keep writing when you can. Keep noticing when you can’t. Both matter.
Life is busy, and that’s okay. Your stories will always be there.
If this resonated with you, The Inkwell was built for writers like you—women balancing family, work, and creativity who want to write with consistency and grace instead of guilt. We’d love to welcome you in!