So I have a Day Job. I’m also over a certain age, one that requires me to be mindful of my health, my sleep, my stress, my consumption of the most delicious foods, etc. I get up at 5:30 in the morning, I get to work by 7:30 in the morning, I get home around 5:30 in the evening. I eat dinner. I walk my dog. I talk to my spouse. I’m in bed by 8PM. And somehow, in between that, I’m supposed to lift weights, work on my novel, write blog posts, and not eat a fuckton of fried chicken.
People do this; I know they do. I know, because there are plenty of people out there who wrote novels even with a day job. Some of them even have children to look after, which I do not. Some of them are physically fit and also sleep. I’m not sure how they’re doing all of it, but they are.
“So, Doyle,” you say. “You can find the time. You just said you’re in bed by 8pm. You said you get up at 5:30 in the morning, like an asshole, but you don’t get to work until 7:30AM. You could be writing–“
SHUT UP
DM
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