I was talking to an old friend who has always wanted to write a book but has still not gotten to it this last week. As he has always indicated on the anniversary of our last conversation about it, his conclusion this time was, “I really don’t have the time.”

Unlike other times when I took his word for it and just let it go; I refused to accept that excuse this time. I suggested to my friend that the issue was not about having time.

 The truth is that this refrain is perhaps the most common reason aspiring writers cite for their inability to get it done as planned. When you think about it, it, of course, sounds practical, responsible, and even admirable. If someone fails to achieve their writing goals, it suggests they are extremely busy with more important things. Presumably, at least. But is it always time? Please, do not misunderstand me. I am not about to invalidate anyone’s right to feel overwhelmed. From career-stretching people to family dragging them, alongside multiple obligations that pull in different directions, this modern world is indeed demanding. Time can really feel scarce.

Yet these same people who don’t have time will quickly binge-watch a limited series or two over the weekend. Some of them will spend six hours clubbing on Friday and Saturday nights; some will scroll their phones all day; they answer messages only when they’re from someone who matters and attend events that validate them. So, in my mind, the question is not whether time exists. The question is, “Is your writing goal worthy of the little time you have?” I have come to realise the following points about time. They might just change your perspective.

Time Is Often About Emotional Priority

The allocation and use of our time are never really determined by what the clock says; our emotional priorities determine them. I’m saying that no matter how tight it is, we will make time for things that bring us quick rewards and make us feel competent, connected, admired, or entertained. Writing does not immediately (or may never) do this for you, and so you might be tempted to push it aside in the meantime.

Rather than applaud or guarantee validation or applause, writing, in fact, confronts you with doubt before offering clarity. It demands tranquillity in a world that honours noise and asks you to sit with your thoughts rather than escape them. Writing, when in the process, puts you in a rather uncomfortable place. So, when someone says they don’t have time to write, they are invariably saying that it costs them an emotional fortune. They say it exposes them without offering validation, even while competing with much easier, instantly beneficial things. So, they choose to preserve themselves!

People Make Time for What Validates Them

Think about it, and you’ll notice that the things that make it to your diary in the busiest moments are those things that reassure you about yourself. They are things that recognise your expertise, make your voice matter and make you feel good.

But writing is different. It doesn’t do any of that.

Even though you may be accomplished in other areas, when you write, you start as a beginner. The first set of sentences you draft may not land well. You will question your own competence; you will see gaps between what you say and what appears on your page, and that can be uncomfortable. Writing is delayed gratification, and you would rather spend time on things that bring comfort and do so promptly.

Writing Competes with Comfort

As unpromising as writing can be, it competes with the things that offer you comfort. It competes with scrolling, watching television, attending to your needs and everything that allows you avoid confronting your own voice. Writers will tell you that it is more of an encounter than a mere activity. It demands answers to what you really think, believe and want to say. Writing honestly can be very unsettling. So, when you say you don’t have time, you might just be saying, “I am not ready to face what writing might uncover.”

 The Real Issue Self- Permission

I wrote to my friend in the middle of last week, saying that I honestly don’t think time is the problem. During our conversation, I said that all that my friend needs to do is permit himself. Permission to be imperfect, to be inconsistent at the start, write before writing well, take themselves seriously as a writer and prioritise this desire that doesn’t offer immediate gratification.

 Now, you are the only one who can permit yourself. No one will clear your calendar and declare that you can now write. You do not need any committee to certify your readiness; this permission is internal, and it’s very simple. Tell yourself, “This writing matters to me, I am allowed to take one hour for something that matters to me.” Telling yourself this may seem small, quiet, but it could be a powerful elixir. You will realise that once permission is granted, time rearranges itself.

 Start Where You Are

So instead of asking yourself, “Do I have time to write a book?” ask, “Do I have fifteen minutes to spare today? Can I write one page? Can I draft one paragraph before checking my phone?

 When writing becomes emotionally safer for you, you’ll find it easier to prioritise it. You start insisting on brilliance, your resistance will soften, and by beginning imperfectly, you will increase momentum. You must realise that you do not need more hours in the day to write, and that what you need to get ahead, resides within you.

 Rather than ask yourself whether you have enough time now, ask whether what you want to write is worth the time. If you answer that question honestly and permit yourself, time has a way of appearing.