I Had 2 Hours a Week to Write. Here's How I Still Showed Up Daily.

Two hours a week.

That's all I had when I was working full-time and trying to build a writing practice on the side. Maybe 15–20 minutes a day if I were lucky. Some days, all I had was literally five minutes before I had to leave for work.

Everyone said the same thing: "You need to carve out dedicated writing time. For at least an hour a day but preferably two."

I didn't have an hour. I barely had ten minutes.

But I still wrote every single day.

Not because I found some magical time management hack. And not because I woke up at 4 AM or gave up sleep or stopped having a life.

I just stopped waiting for "enough" time and started using whatever time I actually had.

Here's how I built a daily writing habit with almost no time at all.

The Myth Of "Real" Writing Time

When I first wanted to write daily, I thought I needed:

• At least an hour of uninterrupted time
• A clear mind with no other obligations
• The energy to really focus and produce good work
• A proper writing session where I could "get in the zone"

After all, most successful writers on the internet told me this is what they had when they produced their best-selling novel. Sure, there were a few who were time-poor, but others were clearing their schedules and giving up their lives to make sure writing took the number one spot. 

It led me to wait for the perfect conditions. And, unsurprisingly, they never came.

I'd get home from work exhausted. I'd have errands to run, dinner to make, and life to manage. By the time I had a free moment, I was too tired to write anything good.

So I didn't write at all.

I was trapped in this logic: if I can't do it properly, why do it at all?

The breakthrough came when I realised: writing daily doesn't mean writing well daily. It just means putting words on a page every single day, regardless of how many words or how good they are.

What "Showing Up Daily" Actually Looked Like

Here's the honest truth about my daily writing habit when I had no time:

Monday: 8 minutes before work. Wrote 150 words of garbage. Didn't finish a thought.

Tuesday: 5 minutes on my lunch break. Wrote three sentences on my phone, sometimes whilst on the toilet (sorry for the TMI)

Wednesday: 20 minutes after work. Actually wrote something semi-coherent. Maybe 300 words.

Thursday: 7 minutes before bed. Too tired to think. Wrote two paragraphs of stream-of-consciousness nonsense.

Friday: 15 minutes in the morning. Felt good. Got 400 words down.

Weekend: Maybe an hour total across both days if I were lucky. 

Total for the week: Maybe 90–120 minutes of actual writing. And most of it was bad.

But I showed up every single day, which was an undeniable improvement from nothing at all. 

The One Rule That Made It Possible

I had one rule: write for at least five minutes. I came up with the number arbitrarily, but in reality, there wasn't a day I couldn't spare five minutes. And I'm referring to a genuine five minutes, not the kind that's actually an hour-long task. 

You will also note that I didn't set a word count; I didn't say "500 words" or "full page," and especially not something publication-worthy.

I simply allocated myself five minutes.

Some days I wrote more because five minutes turned into fifteen once I got started. Other days, five minutes was genuinely all I had, and I stopped after the timer stopped.

But I never skipped a day because I "didn't have enough time."

Five minutes is nothing. You have five minutes. Everyone has five minutes.

The question is whether you're willing to use those five minutes for writing instead of scrolling, snacking, or staring into space.

How I Actually Fit It In

Morning (before work): I woke up 10 minutes earlier. Not an hour. Not even 30 minutes. Just 10.

I'd make a tea, open my laptop, and write whatever came to mind. There was no planning or outlining involved. Just a brain dump for 8–10 minutes before work mode begins. 

Was it good writing? Almost never. Did it count? Yes.

Lunch break: I kept a notes app open on my phone. If I had 5–10 minutes between eating and getting back to work, I'd write a few sentences. 

Honestly, phone writing is clunky, and I hate it. But it's better than not writing, I discovered, and I could still get words on the page, even if it was my favourite writing style. 

After work: This was the hardest time to get my five minutes in. I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was think.

So I didn't try to write anything good. I'd set a timer for 5 minutes and write the worst possible version of whatever idea was in my head. 

The goal wasn't quality. It was showing up.

Weekends: This was the only time I had anything close to a "real" writing session. Sometimes I could find 30–60 minutes if I protected it, but that often involved a lot of shuffling and dedication to make it work, which I couldn't always commit to. 

But even on weekends, I didn't wait for the perfect two-hour block. I took whatever I could get and used it, even the five minutes like during the week. 

What I Learned About Fragmented Writing

When you only have small pockets of time, you learn to write differently.

You can't wait for inspiration. I had 10 minutes. I didn't have time to stare at the page, waiting to feel creative. I just started typing and figured it out as I went.

You write in pieces, not complete drafts. I'd write one section in the morning, a different section at lunch, and another section after work. Then I'd stitch them together later.

You get comfortable with mess. My drafts were incoherent. They were littered with random thoughts in no particular order, repetitive ideas and half-finished sentences. I'd clean it up later when I had more time. The point was to generate raw material.

You stop judging the output. When you only have five minutes, you can't afford to be precious about quality. You just write, and the time-consuming evaluation comes later.

The Surprising Benefits of Tiny Writing Sessions

I thought writing in tiny fragments would make my work worse. It actually made it better.

I became faster. When you only have 10 minutes, you learn to get to the point. No more sitting around "warming up." You start immediately.

I wrote more consistently. It's easier to find 10 minutes every day than to find two hours twice a week. Consistency compounds as it turns out.

I stopped overthinking. I didn't have time for a perfectionism spiral, so I just wrote and moved on.

I proved to myself that time wasn't the real problem. The problem was waiting for "enough" time. Once I stopped waiting, I started writing.

What Changed When I Had More Time

I'm a full-time writer now; I have hours every day to write if I want them.

But I still use the same approach.

I still write in the morning before I'm fully awake. I still do quick 10–15 minute sessions throughout the day, and I continue to write messy first drafts whenever I have time.

The difference is that now I have more time to edit and refine. But the core habit - show up daily, write for at least five minutes, don't wait for perfect conditions - stayed exactly the same.

Learning to write with no time made me better at writing with plenty of time.

The Real Lesson

You don't need two hours to be a writer. You don't even need one hour.

You need five minutes and the willingness to use them.

Everyone has five minutes. The question is whether you're willing to treat those five minutes like they matter, like they're precious and worth everything you have.

Most people who want to aspire to writing in their spare time don't think like this. They think, "What's the point of writing for five minutes? I can't get anything done in five minutes."

That attitude means you never achieve anything. You can write 100 words in five minutes. That's 700 words a week. That's 2,800 words a month. That's a blog post. A newsletter. The start of something bigger.

Five minutes every day beats two hours once a week.

What You Should Do Right Now

I'm about to get brutal with you. 

• Stop waiting for the perfect writing conditions. They're not coming.
• Stop telling yourself you need an hour of uninterrupted time. You don't.
• Just write for five minutes today. Right now if possible. Later if not.
• Write badly. Write incomplete thoughts. Write on your phone if that's all you have. Write one paragraph and stop.
• Just show up.
• Do it again tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that.
• You don't need more time. You need to start using the time you already have.

Got it? Ok, I will take it down. 

But I built a writing career on two hours a week, which means you can build a writing habit on five minutes a day.

The question isn't whether you have time. It's whether you're willing to write anyway.

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I write about the emotional and practical reality of being a writer - drafting, doubt, discipline, and publishing while still figuring it out.

Mostly for people who write because they have to, need to, want to | https://linktr.ee/ellenfranceswrites