My Writing Time

When I’m working on a novel, my morning goes like this: out of bed by 6am or 6:30 at the latest (panic sets in if its later than that). Make breakfast for myself and my wife. This consists of putting together two bowls of oats, yogurt, banana, a few prunes, seeds, various dried fruit. I drink some orange juice while I’m doing this. We make our own coffee. I like proper coffee dripped through a filter, she likes instant (yecchh!). How did we ever get together, you may well ask?

That morning coffee

Take coffee and breakfast bowl into the living room, sit in chair, glasses on, open iPad. Quick scan of emails and Facebook. Open up newspaper app. Read a few articles that interest me and then look at the weather…endlessly fascinating for anyone living in the British Isles. As we live in the middle of the country, it’s often wrong.

After washing up my bowl, spoon, coffee mug, filter, I pour myself a large glass of water and go upstairs to my office. Resisting the temptation to have another look at Facebook, or maybe a peek at Twitter, I open up my writing program, Scrivener.

Usually I will have had some thoughts on waking up about what I think is coming next in the story, which scenes I need to tackle. If I’m lucky, the day before I might even have added a few notations into blank scenes with the name of the character so I have a clue as to what I was thinking then. Better still, I might even have made some notes in the notebook I have for the novel.

Distractions, other than social media…glancing out of the window I watch the young man across the way getting ready to cycle to work. He’s a bit OCD about it, taking a long time to check and double check everything. Then the neighbor whose garage backs onto the lane directly across from my window opens her garage door and I gauge by her clothing what her activity is… gym, golf, picking up her mother to go shopping.

Back to my own screen and a new blank page. I need to get into the head of this character and describe what happens next in the story.

The man with the bike is almost ready now. I know the signs. He’s locking the side door, checks it once, twice. Goes to the back of the house and checks the patio door is locked. Back to the side door, puts his cycling gloves on, carefully. Checks again to make sure the side door is locked and gets on his bike. He’s gone, so now I can get on with writing something.

My goal every day I’m working on a novel is to write one thousand words. This mostly works and generally averages out over the week if I miss that target for the day.

The closer I get to finishing the first draft, the more this writing time gains in importance. I’m monitoring my word count, checking the chapter lengths, wondering if the title makes sense now that I’m near the end of the story.

Mugs for writers

Five hundred words on the page. I finish my glass of water. Go downstairs to make another coffee. The cat next door is staring out of a bedroom window and follows my movements with inquisitive green eyes.

Sometimes the words flow, sometimes they don’t. I remind myself that no one is making me do this. It’s my choice to sit in front of a screen and try to put the words one after the other on the page. But when I’m not doing it, I miss it. So I need to make the most of my writing time and enjoy the process.

Is it time for another cup of coffee yet? It’s a nice day, maybe I should go for a walk.