How I Outsmart Life’s Chaos and Still Find Time to Write

A way forward for writers juggling chores, moods, and the occasional existential crisis.

Recently, a valued subscriber wrote to me, “I’m looking for ways to find more inspiration, renewed excitement, and the energy to write more efficiently. So far, I’ve figured out that my best time to write is in the early morning. But lately, I’ve been finding short bursts of inspiration later in the day, too. What’s your strategy for staying consistent, especially while managing life and daily chores?”

I love these kinds of questions.

They tell me I’m not writing into the void—I’m actually helping a real person with a real problem.

So here’s my response.

Most writing advice assumes you’ve got nothing else to do all day but sip oat milk lattes and gaze wistfully into the distance, waiting for the muse to strike.

That’s not how my life works. And I’m guessing it’s not how yours does, either.

I write in between cooking, washing dishes, answering emails I forgot to answer last week, and wondering what that weird smell in the fridge is.

But despite the domestic chaos, surprise mood swings, and my strong desire to scroll through Substack notes and LinkedIn posts instead of writing Chapter 9 (I have been promising myself to write) and today’s newsletter issue, I still manage to churn out quite a lot.

Not because I’m disciplined. Not because I’ve “hacked” motivation. But because I’m strategically lazy.

Yes. Lazy.

The kind of lazy where you find a shortcut, stick to it, and swear by it like it’s your religion.

Strategic laziness = system over willpower

Here’s what I’ve learned after publishing eight books, writing thousands of words each week, and mentoring aspiring authors—plus plenty of coffee chats and podcast interviews along the way.

The secret isn’t working harder.

It’s removing as many thinking decisions from your day as possible.

Willpower is a leaky bucket. The more decisions you make—what to eat, what to wear, whether or not to write—the emptier it gets.

So I stopped relying on motivation. I built a lazy person’s system instead.

Which brings me to your question, dear subscriber:

“I’ve discovered my best time of day to write… but how do you stay inspired and keep writing when life is full of chores and distractions?”

Excellent question.

Let me show you how I do it.

But before that, an announcement:

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I’ve been writing on Substack for four years, never really worrying about growth. I was content flexing my writing muscle. And it worked—my writing got better. But my subscriber numbers? They stayed pretty much the same.

This year, I decided enough was enough. I made a commitment to grow my newsletter. And within five months, I landed at #13 on the Substack Education Leaderboard. Totally beyond my wildest dreams. One of my notes went viral, bringing in 150+ new subscribers in a matter of days. That opened the floodgates. This month alone I gained 313 subscribers.

But it didn’t happen by luck alone. It was the result of the focused work I did in the first three months of 2025. I followed a 90-day plan. Nothing outrageous—just some smart tweaks and a whole lot of clarity.

I’ve now turned that plan into a program I call the 90-Day Write-Grow-Monetize System. I’ll be sharing it in this newsletter, one step at a time. But not to everyone—only to those who want to grow their Substack.

If not, no worries—keep reading and enjoy the rest of the post!

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1. I protect my best energy like it’s Beyoncé’s phone number

Mornings are sacred.

I’m not saying I wake up at 5 a.m. and write by candlelight while reciting affirmations. (If you do, may the power be to you!)

But I’ve learned my mind is sharpest between 6:30 and 9:30 a.m. That’s my magic window. No chores. No news. No emails. No Substack stats. Just me, my keyboard, and the slightly alarming sound of my fingers pounding the keys.

During this window, I work on high-output writing. novel, newsletter issues, essays, anything that requires original thought.

This isn’t about writing for the whole two hours. Sometimes it's just 45 focused minutes. But that 45 minutes is worth more than three distracted hours later in the day.

So I guard it like it’s my gold jewellery—no calls, no texts, no dozen browser tabs luring me for attention.

Not even“let me just check notifications for one second.” (We all know where that leads.)

Moral of the story: Find your prime hours. Then put a moat around them.

2. I let my brain do half the writing while I’m doing the dishes

Inspiration rarely arrives when I sit down to write.

It shows up when I’m unloading the dishwasher, walking, or standing in the bathroom wondering what I came in for.

That’s why I use a concept I call passive incubation.

Here’s how it works:

I start thinking about my topic much before I sit down to write.

I might scribble a headline. Record a voice note while folding laundry. Chew on a story idea while vacuuming. I don’t try to write anything down formally. I just give my brain a nudge and let it marinate.

It’s like slow-cooking ideas. No pressure. No performance. Just a gentle simmer.

Then, when I sit down to write—boom. Half the work’s already done. The idea has already bloomed in the background while I was cleaning the toilet or avoiding my inbox.

Strategic laziness, my friend.

3. I make chores do double-duty

A wise woman once said: “If I have to scrub the bathroom, the bathroom better give me a subplot idea.”

Okay, fine. That wise woman was me. But still.

I treat chores as creative warm-ups.

When I cook, I play a podcast that stretches my thinking. When I walk, I let my mind wander without stuffing it with music. When I’m cleaning, I talk through scenes out loud like a lunatic, which my family now has learned to ignore.

This is how you make inspiration your sidekick instead of waiting for it like a fickle boyfriend who never texts back.

Writing is not just typing. It’s thinking. And you can think anywhere.

4. I use short spurts instead of long sessions

This one’s for you if you said, “Sometimes I find energy to write later in the day too.”

Same.

Afternoons are hit or miss. I’m tired. I’m snacky. I’m easily seduced by YouTube rabbit holes.

But mid-mornings and nights are gold.

I’ve learned to catch the short bursts when they come.

Instead of saying, “I only have 15 minutes, it’s not enough,” I treat 15 minutes like a bonus round.

In that time, I can:

• Draft an intro

• Brain-dump a scene

• Rewrite a messy paragraph

• Outline tomorrow’s idea

Not everything needs a 3-hour writing session with a scented candle and lo-fi music. Sometimes you just need 15 messy minutes and a yellow Post-it pad.

5. I don’t write every day (gasp!)

I want to.

I fully intend to.

But it doesn’t happen every day.

Some days, it’s just not possible. Doctor’s appointments. Social commitments. Visitors dropping in unannounced. A house that suddenly looks like it’s been ransacked by raccoons. Those days are write-offs. And I’ve learned to accept that.

Then there are other days.

Days when I have nothing but time. A wide-open calendar. A full tank of intention. And yet… I write absolutely nothing.

Instead, I sit at my computer and think, “Let me just do a tiny bit of research before I open my document.” Something vital, of course. Crucial context for what I’m about to write. But that one tiny enquiry turns into another. And another. Before I know it, I’ve fallen headfirst into the Google rabbit hole, and—inevitably—I end up on ChatGPT, marvelling at its inhuman ability to spit out encyclopedic knowledge like a caffeinated librarian on a mission.

Now, I could beat myself up about these days. I used to.

But now? I call them my research days or creative well-filling days.

They’re not wasted. The information I gather doesn’t always get used immediately, but it percolates. It simmers. It informs my thinking. It gives birth to new ideas in sneaky, roundabout ways. And I capture it all—both in my brain and in Notion, my trusty second brain (because let’s face it, my first brain is already overloaded trying to remember if I put the laundry on).

Writing isn't just typing. It's thinking. Processing. Absorbing. Connecting dots.

So even when I’m not hitting the keys, I’m still moving the work forward.

That said, I do write most days. Especially when deadlines are involved. I batch my work, especially things like my newsletter, where consistency matters.

Because deadlines, my friend, are magical.

They make you 10x more productive.

Before my last holiday, I wrote two months’ worth of newsletters—24 issues—in just three weeks. I was a machine. A slightly tired, slightly manic machine, but a machine nonetheless.

So no, consistency doesn’t mean every day.

It means regularity. Rhythm.

It means most days.

Some days more, some days less.

And some days none at all—because rest, too, is part of the work.

6. I build a “low-energy” writing menu

We all have high-energy writing (the deep stuff) and low-energy writing (the admin bits).

When I feel flat but still want to “keep the engine running,” I dip into my low-energy menu:

• Outlining old ideas

• Rewriting bad drafts

• Writing social media captions

• Formatting newsletters

• Brainstorming titles

That way, I’m still moving forward even on slumpy days. No pressure. No magic required. Just slow progress.

7. I forgive myself quickly

This one might be the most important.

Some days, I write nothing. I don’t feel inspired. I don’t feel strategic. I just feel like a blob.

And I used to beat myself up. Oh boy, did I.

But self-flagellation is not a productivity tool.

Now I just say: “Today wasn’t a writing day. That’s okay. Tomorrow’s a fresh one.”

You don’t build a writing life by punishing yourself every time you miss a session.

You build it by returning to the work again and again. Gently. Kindly. With a touch of strategic laziness and a big dash of grace.

Okay, after all that babbling…

Writing amidst real life is hard.

There are no retreats. No endless hours. No magic wands.

Just you, your ideas, and the wild circus of everyday existence.

But it’s possible.

Not because you hustle harder. But because you work smarter—like that screw-counting mechanic from my note.

Find your energy window. Think while you clean. Steal short spurts. Let the inspiration arrive unannounced. Forgive the off days. Keep showing up.

Because the truth is, we don’t write in spite of life’s chaos—we write through it.

And sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is sit down for 15 lazy minutes and let the words find you there.

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That’s all from me today.

As always, thanks for reading——I don’t take your time for granted.

And hey, if you’d like to support my work (and get a good read while you're at it), check out one of my books below. Just click the cover to learn more.