I’ve been trying to write this post for a couple of weeks now. I’ve cycled through three different topics that may never make it out of the drafts folder. My commitment is to always be writing the truest, most urgent reflection on my work as a creative (writer) who is a woman (high expectations that we give our time away to others) who works full time as a teacher (high social demand, caretaker of other people’s children) and who is committed to making time for the work that makes me me.

So, I’m starting again from the top. Right now, what I want to say most urgently about the importance of making time for our creative lives is to remember that nothing is permanent. So much of the trouble we run into in trying to keep at this work in good spirits comes down to the brain’s tendency to want to claim and categorize. I’m struggling right now in moving this narrative forward, so maybe I’m wasting my time and should just give up. It’s one of those totally stupid thoughts that make sense when you’re in it.

I’ve been battling this particular demon for a few moons. Spring is a chaotic time in teaching and in the natural world. It’s been months since I’ve been able to drop into my novel and forget the rest. Late February (or early March) I got stuck on a few questions about the form and structure of my book. I kept writing at a slow, painful pace, and spent April mostly writing poems and tinkering with short stories. My current schedule relies heavily on getting up early and writing before the workday. I’ve found this time to be my freshest, most creative time. But lately, I’ve been letting the dogs out and going back to bed for an hour, cutting my already minimal writing time in half. As a result, the trickle slowed down to a drip-drip-drip. Maddening “progress,” the kind of progress that gets the ghouls going in your head. You’ve been banging on about being a writer for thirty years. Maybe if you haven’t figured it out by now, you should just call it quits?

Even so, I kept showing up. Missed a day here and there, sometimes had to drag myself to my writing desk, kicking and crying. Last weekend, I used Chris as a springboard for every idea I could think of to address the dissatisfaction I was feeling about how to tell my story. Once he realized I wasn’t looking to be reassured, that I really wanted to dig in and solve the problem no matter who or what had to die, he told me to make a list of possible solutions to the problem. That was good advice. I made the list. I still flipped from idea to idea, unable to see a way forward.

Before this moment, I’d committed to do Jami Attenberg’s 1000 Words of Summer. I had no idea at the time how much this would help me out of my rut. I’d been following her posts, and the timing just seemed perfect—timed so that I’d finish the two-week writing challenge just in time for summer’s arrival. I loved the idea of being all warmed up already, having all that momentum. Too often, I collapse exhausted into summer, without a plan, vainly hoping the writing will somehow just magically happen. I’d picked up her book and started reading it. So readable, so motivating.

Why not give it a try?

The first day the of the challenge, I wrote both in the morning and then again in the evening to make the word count. It’d been ages since I’d picked up writing again in the evening. I resisted all the other nagging tasks that I could have done first because they were more straightforward, required a different part of my brain. I squander plenty of writing time pecking around the edges of writing. 1000 words, as Attenberg reminds us, is about four typed pages. That seemed so doable. So, I did. As a result, I have now written 7000 new words in a week. My novel has grown to almost 70,000 words and I am five chapters from an ending.

The success of this week has produced a light bulb moment for me in terms of planning my writing time this summer.1000 words a day Monday through Friday. 16 pages if I’m editing. It’s enough to make progress, but not so much to overwhelm this working writer. It also means that when I’m done, I can get around to the other things on my list that support the writing, like submitting, critiquing, and reading.

This plan has two key parts: the goal itself and the prioritizing of the goal. 1000 words can be done with time to spare. You can do it and be truly done for the day. This also makes is easier to prioritize, which is critical. Even just now, when I sat down to finish this post, I thought about opening up the platform I use for writer’s groups and read and critique a few pieces. When I know I’ve promised to read the work of others, it nags at me to put it off too long. There is a long list of things that pop up as needing to be done when faced with writing a scene I’m struggling with. Anything from unclogging the bathroom sinks to trimming the lawn. But if I’m ever going to finish my book, the writing has to come first. Do the writing first.

I’m feeling newly focused and inspired, and I’ve taken the day off work tomorrow to sit and write all day with my friend. The months of struggle have evaporated for now; I’ve got vision and momentum again. And yet, this too will not last. The struggle will return; I’ll find a way through. The cycle repeats again and again. It’s supposed to; it’s evidence you are doing something right.

It’s easy to forget this when it comes to our creative work, especially because sharing our art is an act of vulnerability. Add to that the fact that you will indeed experience periods of struggle forever until you quit or die.

For now, I’m riding a high. I’ve got a new writing plan. I have no idea how long that will last, and that’s okay.

Better than okay. That is the dance we came for.

I also work as a writing coach and love helping writers gain confidence, set goals, and develop their work. For more information on coaching, email me at eatyourwords.lizshine@gmail.com.