I was out to dinner with my mentor and we were both complaining about not having the time to write. We asked ourselves the reason for putting our art on the back burner. We came up with a spectrum of reasons from guilt to America’s puritan heritage. Would it be considered selfish to spend my time writing a fictional novel that has not made me one red cent or washed one dirty dish instead of doing something else that others may deem “more productive”? How could I battle my guilt and self-loathing for locking myself in a room with my computer when I could be spending more time with my family?
For me, it was about making the time for my writing when and where I could avoid the guilt and distraction. After looking at how I spent my time during the day, I decided that my lunch break would be perfect. It would give me an hour where I’m away from everyone and everything and I could just write.
Easier said than done. There are days where I am lazy, and I rather spend my mid-day break watching stupid YouTube videos than write. To be honest, there have been times where I skipped my hour-long writing session. However, these days are few and far between.
It is much easier to write once you have the momentum going. It is like brushing your teeth or your daily BM. Your mind knows what is coming next, so it transitions into writing mode much faster and easier than it would if you hadn’t been writing everyday.
Once I made the time for my writing, I was able to finally finish my book. Maybe it will work for you too.
C. L. Parson
C. L. Parson 
I sat at my laptop last night playing solitaire because I ‘wasn’t feeling inspired’. But when I finally stopped messing around and got on with finishing the first section of my new novel it all just flowed out.
It’s so easy to find excuses not to write. I don’t know why. Because then when I do write I (normally) feel so much better afterwards.
Awesome! So happy you were able to get your rear in gear and write. I feel the same way. When I don’t write, I get depressed and discouraged. When I do write, I think to myself, “Why did I ever stop?”