A Day in My Writing Life: Creativity in the Chaos

Writing isn’t my full-time job. I wish it were, but for now, I have to carve out time for it between working, sleeping (or, more accurately, not sleeping), maintaining my mental health, and DMing my own Dungeons & Dragons campaign. My days are a chaotic mix of responsibilities, distractions, and fleeting moments of creativity. I don’t write every day—not in the structured, disciplined way that writing guides tell you to—but I do create something most days, even if it's just a sentence.

I don’t measure my writing success by word count. Some days, I write five hundred words that feel like absolute trash. Other days, I write a single paragraph that knocks the breath out of me. The best writing days aren’t the ones where I hit some arbitrary number—they’re the ones where I write something that feels right.

But getting to that moment? That’s the challenge. My days are a blur of responsibilities, and writing has to fit in where it can.

6:30 AM – Snooze. Again.

I’d love to be the kind of person who wakes up early, makes a cup of tea, and gets an hour of writing done before the world demands my attention. In my mind, I see myself stretching luxuriously, smiling as I sip my tea, and typing away in the peaceful morning light.

That’s a lie.

Most mornings, my alarm goes off at 6:30 AM, and I snooze it immediately. I don’t even wake up enough to think about it. My body just knows that sleep is still an option, and I take it. Then it goes off again at 6:40. Then 6:50. If I’m really playing a dangerous game, I might snooze it until 7:00. I keep thinking, just five more minutes. Then suddenly, it’s 7:30, and I have to launch myself out of bed if I want to have even the slightest chance of making it to work on time.

I tell myself that I’ll start waking up earlier, that I’ll give myself time to write in the morning, but the truth is? Writing in the morning? Not happening. Not for me.

8:00 AM – The “Real Job” Takes Over

By the time I’ve managed to throw on clothes, grab my stuff, and make it out the door, I’m already thinking about all the things I need to do for work. As a full-time elementary school teacher, my job is never boring, but it also means my brain is constantly running at full speed. There’s grading, lesson planning, and keeping up with the endless energy of kids who seem to be powered by some supernatural force.

Even in the middle of my workday, my writer-brain never completely shuts off. I jot down ideas in the margins of my notebook, scribble bits of dialogue on sticky notes, and sometimes, in moments of pure desperation, I’ll record a voice memo while pretending I’m making a work-related note.

But there’s no time to sit down and actually write. Even if I manage to steal a moment for myself, my brain is too cluttered with assessments and responsibilities to focus on crafting a coherent scene.

5:00 PM – Exhaustion, But I Still Have Things to Do

By the time I get home, I should technically be done with work, but my mind is still buzzing. I have emails to answer, homework to grade, and all the other little things that come with being a teacher. But then there’s also life stuff: laundry, dinner, remembering that I’m supposed to be a functional human being.

Some nights, I have Dungeons & Dragons to prep. DMing isn’t just a hobby—it’s another form of storytelling, one that requires planning, improvisation, and keeping track of a million moving pieces. I love it, but it’s work. Crafting a campaign isn’t all that different from writing a novel—there are arcs to build, characters to flesh out, and conflicts to create. The difference is that in D&D, my players are co-authors, throwing in their own chaos to keep me on my toes.

Even when I don’t have a session to run, I still have to find time to decompress. Some nights, I doomscroll on my phone longer than I should. Some nights, I read. Some nights, I just exist for a while.

And then, when everything else is done and my body is screaming at me to go to sleep, that’s when I write.

10:00 PM – The Late-Night Writing Window

Most of my writing happens late at night, when the world is finally quiet and my brain stops feeling like it’s on fire.

There’s something about the stillness of the night that makes it easier to slip into my stories. The distractions fade, the pressure disappears, and I can just write. Some nights, I get a few hundred words down. Other nights, I get caught in a flow state and suddenly it’s 2:00 AM. I don’t stop because I should—I stop because my body literally won’t let me keep going.

Writing at night feels different. There’s no expectation, no demand to be productive. It’s just me and the story, and for those few hours, nothing else exists.

Midnight and Beyond – Rinse and Repeat

I wish I could say that after a late-night writing session, I go to bed feeling satisfied and well-rested. But let’s be real—I still have to wake up and do it all over again. Most mornings, I snooze my alarm again and tell myself that maybe tomorrow I’ll write in the morning.

But this is my process. Messy, inconsistent, and fueled by stolen moments of creativity. And somehow, in between all the chaos, the stories still get written.

I used to think that in order to be a real writer, I had to have a strict routine. That I had to write at the same time every day, hit a word count goal, and sit at a perfectly curated desk with a candle flickering and a cup of tea in my hand. But I’ve come to accept that my process doesn’t look like that. It doesn’t need to.

I write when I can, how I can. On the back of my work notes during professional development. On my phone while waiting in line. In a burst of energy at 1:00 AM when I should absolutely be asleep.

And the words? They add up. Slowly, in bits and pieces, they become something real. A novel. A story worth telling.

If you’re a writer with a chaotic life, if you can’t commit to a daily routine, if you feel like you’re always stealing time to create—I see you. You’re still a writer. Your words still matter.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an alarm to snooze.

Until next time,

Oregon J. Sinclair