One of the most difficult parts of being a parent writer is getting started.
Our kids demand so much time. When they’re young, they require supervision at all times, and they need things constantly, and they demand attention at every turn. The only break in sight, hopefully, is nap time (not so if you have twins).
[Tweet “Kids are not an easy undertaking. Neither is a career when you have kids.”]
But the question we have to ask ourselves is this: What is the world losing if I am not pursing my writing dream?
And another, like it: What is my family losing if I do not pursue my writing dream?
I’ll tell you what the answer looked like for me. I was losing, daily, pieces of myself. I found myself stuck in a job I hated, because I was under-appreciated and, frankly, taken advantage of, because it didn’t pay squat and it demanded much more than it gave. Besides all that, all I really wanted to be doing was creating my own creative content and pursuing a career that involved poetry and novels and essays on my own platforms. But we had five kids at the time, and it was impossible to find time to pursue anything at all. I hadn’t written in four years, and I didn’t know if I still had it in me, all those stories that had waited once upon a time.
Something that should bring us comfort as parent writers is that no matter how long you’ve been out of writing, you don’t ever lose it. It’s true that practice makes you better, and if you’re working daily on your writing, you’re going to always get better at it. But when you step away from writing for a season—or four years of seasons, like I did—it doesn’t mean you’ve lost all your skill or creativity or stories. We can feel afraid that it might, but it’s a lie. We’ll be as good as we’ve ever been, and we’ll only get better with time.
One night, I told my husband that I needed to sit down and talk things out for a while. He’s a gracious man, so, of course, he agreed. I told him that I felt like I was shriveling up inside myself, like I was not doing what I was made to do. I was made to write. I was made to create. I was made to show the world what lived inside. I loved journalism—it’s probably what gave me the greatest insight into human nature and empathy, not to mention fostering discipline and the ability to make a deadline and keep it—but it was not exactly the dream I carried in my heart. I wanted to be an author. And so we carved out fifteen minutes a day when I could sit and write about whatever my heart wanted. I wrote about family values and, later, turned those early journals into books.
The point is, I had to start at fifteen minutes. I did not have the luxury of time that many writers have, where they could spend days on end simply writing to their hearts’ content. I had to carve out time, and it was not enough time, but it was a start. I was working. I was consistent. I was growing.
We all have to start somewhere. It could be five minutes of writing time, snuck in while the kids are sleeping. It could be fifteen minutes of time when the kids are having “Daddy time” and we’re locked in your room scribbling or typing as fast as we possibly can. It could be whole afternoons of putting fingers to keys and cranking out more words than we’ve ever seen in a whole year. It doesn’t matter what it looks like. Every minute is progress.
People ask me all the time how I got started as a parent writer. Usually this is based on the simple fact that I have six kids. It seems like an impossibility with one kid, let alone six. Mostly because writing expects a commitment, and how does anybody keep a commitment with kids? It’s not easy, but if we really want to get started, we’re going to have to do it. We’re going to have to mark that nap time as time we’re pursuing our passion instead of sleeping ourselves. We’re going to have to engage in a conversation with our spouse about a time that might work for both of us. We’re going to have to commit.
After the staring, it looks different for everyone. There’s no right way to do this writing thing. I start my mornings writing. Others end their days writing. It doesn’t really matter. We have to find what works for us and our family, and we have to do it consistently, over and over and over again. We’ll meet resistance, sure, and sometimes the baby will be sick and sometimes there are other commitments, but if we want to make this writing thing a career kind of thing, we’re going to have to first start. There will always be something else to do—laundry, dishes, playing out back, cooking. That’s not going to go away just because we decide to write. But we’re going to have to prioritize and ask for help and then we’re going to have to sit down and forget it all and create.
Some first steps for getting started as a parent writer:
Step 1: Have a conversation with your spouse.
One of the most important parts of a successful marriage is good communication. Spouses who find a safe place to talk to each other honestly and openly are spouses who will find even greater commitment and trust. Engage in a conversation with your spouse about the ways you’ve been feeling, what you want to do, who you want to be.
If you don’t have a spouse, have a conversation with your children. Tell them you want to start a career as a writer, and you’re going to need them to stay in their beds for at least fifteen minutes after they’re put to bed. If they need something after that, you’ll be able to deal with their needs. Let them know how important it is for you to pursue this dream. Tell them your stories. Invite them in.
Step 2: Get time scheduled on the calendar.
It’s not going to happen if it’s not scheduled. I’m a big proponent for writing everything down on a calendar. This will help, too, if or when the spouse forgets that you’ve agreed upon this particular time as your writing time. It’s there on the calendar. Make a sign for your bedroom door. Let your kids know it’s writing time.
Step 3: Resist resistance so the writing becomes a habit.
Don’t worry if you have trouble the first few times you try. It’s going to take a while to make this writing time a habit. You will meet all kinds of resistance—chores that actually beg you to do them, computer problems, a blank head space. Resistance will do all it can to keep you from creating. If you have trouble getting started, write about your day.
[Tweet “The simple habit of writing will virtually eliminate “writer’s block.””]
Step 4: Plan an editorial schedule.
Once you’ve gotten used to creating, planning an editorial schedule will help you make the best use of your time. I used to think this wasn’t allowing me to be “creative” enough, but I’ve learned in my years of writing that knowing what I’m going to write before I sit down to write it helps the subconscious roll that topic around in ways we can’t even explain. Planning a schedule reinforces your commitment and lets writing know you’re in it for the long haul.
