Almost every site, it seems, has a bunch of aspirational statements about becoming a writer on it. And, what do you know, in this current world, almost everyone is a writer, to a much greater extent than before. We all have our little printing presses and share a major distribution system. Our pamphlets litter the streets, are shoved into cracks in the wall, and are stuck to the ceiling with old butter cream frosting.
And, sure, reading productivity tips is my favorite way to waste time too.
I wrote my new novel, Brain Thief, under standard conditions of fulltime job and young kids. This meant efficiency (not my strong suit), finding time (early mornings: planting colonies in an unpromising wilderness), and, ahem, actually pumping out the words (speed was never my thing either). But, guess what: if you pound your forehead against the wall for long enough, you might knock it over.
Other writers have mentioned that the words they wrote in full spate while demonically inspired don't actually read any different than the ones they wrote with the same effort as eating a 1958 Cadillac. This is true of me too. I think the book reads as lightly as if written on sweaty nights at the kitchen table when not working at the envelope factory, or in a beach house on Martha's Vineyard with a trust fund. Doesn't really matter.
But, if I suddenly had more time, I think I would give up on the crisp efficiency of my mornings and weekends, and waste more time rather than produce much more. Of course, that makes me sad, but leisure has its value too. Time used in reading or bicycling beats time wasted in the office any day.
Not many tips here! Maybe this: writing is fun, but it's still a job. Treat it like one.