There Is No Right Time to Start Writing Your Dream Book

You might as well start today.

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

The day I started writing my book wasn’t a grand day. The stars hadn’t aligned nor was I sitting in a coffee shop beside a window where the sun shone down on me. The timing hadn’t been perfect.

I began forming the novel the day after Christmas. I was still tired from the nights I’d spent staying up during the holidays.

I was in my room with my mom and two sisters.

They were talking and laughing loudly, as usual, while I listened to The Script’s latest album. With my Freewrite propped on my lap, I was trying to write a short story.

Eventually, I became frustrated because I couldn’t come up with a decent idea. I turned off my device, then turned it back on a minute later because I still felt like writing.

While my sisters and mom playfully argued about who-knows-what, I moved to the desk. I raised my music’s volume, opened a blank page, and started writing.

I had an image in my head of two girls running through the woods, escaping some type of danger, so that’s what I brought to life.

At that moment, I hadn’t realized I’d started drafting my first novel. The next day, I wrote more, and I haven’t stopped since.