Developing a solid writing habit is not easy, and often, it’s plain hard. How can I make more time to write? What should I work on now that I’ve made the time? Where do I start? Where do I go from there? How do I know if I’m on the right track?

I don’t know what you should do to create more time to write and I don’t know how to help you feel like you have as many hours as you need. Some days, it feels like I am stealing time from other parts of my life. I find myself staying up too late and tapping out thoughts on my phone. My lunch breaks are spent scribbling on a notepad while my food gets cold. On my days off I enjoy writing outside, though when I write it’s hard to enjoy the scenery. I am happy to sacrifice these moments for my writing.

For myself, often the real trouble isn’t finding time to write so much as deciding what to work on in the moment. If you’re like me and have several half-finished projects at any given time—several equally pressing and relevant works in-progress—it can be difficult deciding which one necessitates priority. The ADHD sensibilities that come with being a writer cause this to be as big a problem as writer’s block. Actually, that is writer’s block. What we usually think of as writer’s block—i.e., when the words aren’t flowing—is really more of a drought.

With our limited time, how do we know if we are on the right track? Out of all of our ideas, did we choose the right project to spill our time into? In writing as in life, the fact is we don’t know—can’t know—until we know. I’m sorry to say it. A double-edged sword, this fact of writing and life is remarkably freeing and terribly frightening. We have no choice but to trust our gut instincts and carry on in the dark. Eventually, we’ll arrive somewhere. By then, the journey will have left its mark on us and we’ll already be unconsciously deciding if we’re happy with where we’ve arrived. Or if, in the immortal words of Bob Plant, it’s time to ramble on.

How do we decide what to work on without wasting our reserve of creative energy?

You’ve been there; sitting down to write turns into shuffling through piece after piece without accomplishing much of anything. Pretty soon, your time is gone and a nagging feeling falls over you–you’ve lost your time to write.

We waste time aimlessly shuffling between pieces and tinkering here and there. Moving our focus to yet another piece; perhaps in hopes a line of dialogue will reel us in and reignite the original spark; is dangerous. I don’t even dare consider how many hours I’ve frittered away doing this, tinkering with single lines across multiple projects, arguably more interested in accomplishing something than being true to [again, dare I say] the Art of the thing. Sure, there’s nobility in doing something, but unless it amounts to more than that, such writing sessions always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

It’s in our best interests to either know what we want to focus on before sitting down to write or be willing to face the blank page without hesitation.

For years, I shied away from prompts. Prompts felt limiting to me—writing something based on whatever restrictions a given prompt imposed. However, lately, I find myself singing a different tune.

Even if you don’t like the idea of prompts, it might help to think of them as free-writing with lines to color within, or bowling with bumpers. You can completely ignore any or all of the rules of the prompt. If even a single aspect of the prompt gets you writing, mission accomplished. In fact, I don’t usually employ prompts, but when my brain has two lines on hold, four others blinking, and a partridge in a pear tree, I find that free-writing is the only thing to do. Once you get going, the forward motion is enough to keep going. Most likely, you’ll find yourself moving toward one of the projects on your back burners anyway. Worst case scenario, you’ve got another piece in-progress. At the end of the day, there are worse problems to have.

So, here goes nothin’.