I'm writing a book.
Maybe for publication. Maybe not. But here's why and how I'm finding time to write it.
We had friends round for lunch on Sunday. Their children are younger than ours (three and a half, and a four-month-old baby) and we were talking about putting the kids to bed and claiming a little bit of time for yourself in the evenings.
I remember really needing it when I had babies and toddlers but now that my kids are older (11, eight, six) and go off to play independently, most of the time, I have pockets of peace to, say, cook dinner or read for half an hour while they’re still awake.
Which is perhaps why I now go to bed when my kids go to bed. I settle the youngest, and while he nods off next to me, I read on my Kindle. I then go to sleep early - I’m asleep by 9.30pm most nights - and wake early, naturally, around 5.30/6am.
But while talking with these friends, I remembered one summer when I had a toddler and a baby and I wrote a bloody novel in the evenings. We’d settle the kids by 7pm and I’d write until 10pm. I couldn’t do that now. I wouldn’t want to.
However, I am writing a book.
I think it’s this manifesting course I’m on. It’s reminding me that if you want something, you have to go and get it. Nothing lands in your lap without intention and effort. I want to write books that sell millions of copies so that I can live off the sales.
That’s the goal. But perhaps I unknowingly surrendered the selling millions of copies part along the way and instead, decided to focus my attention on rule #1 of being a writer: start writing. Get clear on the goal and then put it to one side and get to work.
Of course, I already write.
Here on Substack, on Instagram and in courses. But writing a book is different. It’s a long old piece of writing, which makes it an exciting challenge - and also requires a mindset shift. It’s like diving into deep waters, rather than paddling.
I’m walking a lot, at the moment. I walk part of the way to drop one child with her friend in the mornings, walk up to have a coffee, alone, for 20 minutes (my favourite part of the day), walk to meet my boys and drop one of them at his classroom.
I have started walking with a friend after drop-off some mornings. I walk home, walk to do the next school collection, walk home with my son, walk to do the second collection and the third. Walk walk walk.
And sometimes, I like listening to a podcast. And sometimes, I like listening to music. But the more I walk, the more I feel inclined to use my walking time productively and creatively (music and podcasts are creative but I want to be doing myself.)
So, I started writing about walking. And this led to me writing about my current life situation, raising children with different needs. Largely focused on the motherhood aspect of this: what my life looks like, as I support my children, and myself.
Soon, I had dictated 3000 words into the Notes app on my phone. It was time to look at structuring this piece of writing into sections, as it was flowing out so fast and I could see it might be a book but I needed the threads to have their own spool.
After creating ideas for what each chapter could be, my brain became a sewing machine, foot-peddle down, stitching at high speed into each of the newly-created chapter sections. Another 2000+ words, which makes 5000+ words, in two days.
Or, in 30,000 steps.
Now, I’ve got to a stage where I feel I could sit at my laptop and write the whole thing. Perhaps I need a weekend away. A weekend spent solely on this project, reflecting on the past few years. On ‘home’, relocating twice, motherhood, fear, trying, relief.
Every time I write about these past few years, in this way, with no pressure or expectation (from, say, an agent, publisher or online community), I feel lighter. This is an entirely selfish act; processing my experience, in word-form.
It’s potentially, for me, more powerful than talking therapy.
Writing is integral
Writing is not just my profession, it’s how I live. As a child, I wrote notes to my parents when I wanted or needed something. As a teen, I wrote a note about something huge that had happened that I couldn’t speak about in words.
Now, writing is how I make sense of my life, my relationship, friendships, the community I’m part of, the world around me, why people behave as they do, the things I’m scared of and what I’m enjoying and looking forward to.
Some of the writing I do go on to share online, in poem-form on Instagram, essay-form on Substack and occasionally in articles for other publications, or in non-fiction books. Some of the writing stays hidden away in notebooks lined up on a bookshelf.
When I teach The Creative Way (to be a freelance writer), I’m teaching writers how to turn their writing into a career with multiple income streams, like I have. For those of us who like variety, this can be a wonderful way to work.
Sensible, in the changing publishing landscape, too.
But I’m also teaching you how to write, regularly, when it feels like there’s no time to write. Because I know that feeling. I felt it when I stuffed that novel-writing into the tight envelope of my summer evenings, as mother to a toddler and a baby.
And I’m feeling it now, when I walk 15-20,000 steps a day, tending to my three children and their different needs and piecing together an education for each of them, along with the school, that is accessible, while dictating the story into my phone.
So, if you are a writer, or would like to be a writer, and want to earn a living - or more than you are currently earning - from doing this work, creatively, and you want to learn from a woman who gets it what it is to have limited time…
Here’s what lovely past students have said about the course:
“This is the second course I have enrolled in with Annie. Really really loving it! I feel so much more confident in embracing my writing! It’s fab.” - Alice Bramhill
“I’ve really loved learning from you. Your teaching style has meant that I have been able to already take positive steps towards my career goals without feeling overwhelmed. It’s been effortless so far. So thank you! “- Angee Chaudhry
“I’ve sailed through a few parts of the creative course, thank you! So much help and guidance AND encouragement.” - Philippa Kay
As for the book that I’m writing: maybe I will pitch for it to be published. Maybe it will sit in my Notes app like a very detailed diary and never be read by anyone else. I’m not rushing to make a decision on that, I’m just enjoying this cathartic process.
Doing it while I’m walking means that ‘desk-time’ can still be kept for the writing that earns me a living. I don’t have the guilt of working on a book that might never be published (not that we should feel any guilt for this. But financial pressure is real).
The physical momentum is like a catalyst for mental momentum. The longer my walks, the more I can reflect and pluck out new topics, within this wider one, to hone in on. Moving my body is helping me to move my mind. Gosh, I love it.
Annie x




This piece sings, Annie. Honestly. The image of you stitching those chapters together on the move, feet going, mind going, the story drafting itself as you walk, feels like creative witchcraft of the finest kind.
There’s nothing more thrilling than watching a book announce itself to its writer. What a joy to witness.
PS. I’m part of the Footnote Sisterhood too — walking, thinking, writing as one long motion. 😉
This is so interesting. Doing an all-day online retreat last Sunday with Beth Kempton gave me a chance to really dig deep into my own writing practice and I realised that involved two apparently contradictory things. First, that I take it seriously and do it every day, and secondly that I stop thinking of other activities as enemies of my creativity. Instead, I'm trying to integrate them into my writing practice by turning over ideas in my head, and I find walking, knitting and other repretitive tasks really conducive to this process. We don't need to be diving deep every minute of the day but we do need to find a way to make the spaces, even small ones, work for us and make it easier to be productive when we do. It sounds like you're going through a similar process.