Finding Writing Time Amidst Raising Teens

aka. I thought finding writing time would get easier as these kids got older but it's been harder??? - part 1

Time for a bit of rambling about parenting/homeschooling as an author, which will be followed by me reaching no real solution, making up a hypothetical writing schedule that may or may not work, and then leaving you hanging for a while as I try to implement said schedule. Just so we’re all on the same page here.

The rambling:

I love being a boy mom. Legos, blocks, finding sticks and rocks everywhere, dinosaurs and dragons sketched into the corners of every paper, dumb jokes and sweet smiles. It’s simultaneously amazing and stinking hard.

We’ve homeschooled since day one of preschool. It’s been what’s best for these two dyslexic, distractible boys. A choice that has been a good fit for our family, no doubt about it.

About eight years ago, I took up writing.

I kept telling myself that it would get easier to find time for putting together stories when the boys got older. Once they were more independent. When they didn’t need me for every little thing.

Now, they are a freshman and a junior in high school. 9th and 11th grades. And it’s been harder than ever to find time to write.

…

Why?

Why is it harder now that they’re bigger?

Everyone else made it sound like it would get easier. That finding productive writing time was so much simpler once the kids got older. That putting on the headphones and shutting the door would be no big deal when they no longer came knocking for snacks or help reading something or to settle every argument. That windows of time would naturally open up as they could drive themselves to events or even run that quick errand for me.

But that hasn’t happened. And I wonder…

What am I doing wrong?

…

Writing was easier when school took two hours in the morning. When I ran them around the backyard or park to burn energy and then dumped them in bed for quiet time in the early afternoon. When they were down for the night at 8:30 every evening. When their only outings were going with me to pick up groceries and grabbing a little treat on the way home. When I would gather inspiration from reading books to them for hours everyday.

Yes, there were days my writing time got skipped because I was exhausted from answering a hundred questions from tiny wanna-be philosophers who were trying to figure out “how to people.”

But it happened. Looking back, it happened quite a lot.

I snuck it in during those quiet naps. I plugged away at it one or two evenings a week. I booted up the computer in the early mornings. And yes, sometimes I popped in that two hour movie, yanked on my headphones, and slammed down as many words as I could before the credits rolled.

I found reprieve in my pages. I found joy in building something that wasn’t immediately undone by curious little hands.

I wrote and wrote and built my skills, looking forward to the days when I would finally have the brain power and time to create whole novels.

And yet…

…

Now, I find myself opening up those slots of time that used to be for writing.

Wanting to be present in the evenings/nights; when they hit that typical teenage second wind and the stories, thoughts, and dreams start pouring out. Which sometimes leads to harder mornings for my middle aged body and brain.

I find myself running errands myself in hopes of one of them tagging along for a bit of chill time together.

Our school day has gotten longer, and while they are more independent, they are also still kids and in need of some good old accountability to stay focused and finish all their work.

Saturdays have been for football games, and Sundays, as always, are for worship and ministry commitments that the Lord has given us.

I don’t regret these things.

And yet, when do I make time for the words and stories that the Lord has laid on my heart?

…

The non-solution:

I do not wish for the time to pass quickly. The older my boys get, the more I like them and enjoy hanging out with them. (Most days, anyway. Lol!) While I do look forward to seeing them bloom into men and strike out into the world, I don’t hope for it to come sooner.

And so, what do I do in the mean time? Is my writing simply supposed to be set aside in this season?

This summer/early fall, it was. I attending a writing conference in July, but other than that, writing things didn’t happen from about April until September. Reading barely happened.

I felt both relieved and deflated at the same time. Refreshed and just a little guilty. It’s normal to feel conflicting feeling simultaneously.

But now that the days are growing cooler with hints of the coming fall, I feel the itch to try again.

…

The attempt at a new routine:

So, this is where I lay out a new plan for my writing routine with the confidence of a brand new homeschool mom laying out her carefully planned curriculum schedule that will surely fall to bits within the first two months. But hey, let’s roll with it!

I’m going to try writing in two time blocks.

• About an hour in the morning (maybe a smidge more) before the boys start school. Probably 7:30-8:30.

• One to two hours in the early afternoon. Most likely, starting at 1:00. Ending time will vary according to the day and its commitments.

My hope is that by trying for two times of day, at least one of them will happen.

Will it work? I don’t know. But, as I always tell myself, “If you don’t change anything, nothing changes!” So, I’m setting the alarm earlier, and planning ahead on supper.

Lord willing, I’ll only fumble a little, find my stride, and have good news to share in about a month. But, things have a way of going directions I can’t even guess.

So, yeah. That is the dramatically, anti-climactic conclusion to the writing angst I’ve been chewing on and praying over this summer. The end.

Oh, and happy fall, friends!