You may think you can just do it in front of the TV in the living room or at the dining room table in the morning where you can be with the kids while they have breakfast and still get your writing done.
You may think you can just do it at work over lunch. Ignoring that call from your boss even though everyone knows you are in your cubicle and you look like you’re working.
You may think you can just do it in bed, keep your tablet on your nightstand, think about your characters all day and then slip your writing time in before you go to sleep.
You may think that there already exists a crack in your routine which you can fill with writing like you would caulk or putty.
I’ve tried all of these. Let me save you the energy. None of them worked. None of them worked predictably, every day, day after day. None of them led to sure productivity. You’ve got to be more intentional.
There is one thing you really need. A place to write. Seriously. You do.
Your place may be that table at Starbucks right next to the newspaper stand that everyone else seems to overlook. Your place may be a table in a spare bedroom under a window, where you have room for a couple of bookshelves and some lamps (this is mine). Your place may be in your car, after work, a quick 30 minutes before the commute, before you get home and all the stuff you need to do that evening turns against you.
These places all have one thing in common. They are sacred. You don’t do anything in those places at those times other than write. You are alone, anonymous, you are the only one keeping you company.
Feel free to try a few spots. Try a few different times, too. But do it. Find a place and a time.
And treat it like a monk going to mass.