For the last year, I’ve claimed Friday as my writing day.
Not in a romantic, writer-in-a-cottage kind of way. There are zero, uninterrupted stretches of inspiration. My Fridays still look like real life including errands, school volunteering, weekend planning, helping my husband with his work and growing my business. All the same things as any other day.
But scheduled in the middle of the day, for an hour, I write. During this time I am intentional about not multitasking. I do not answer emails or shop on Amazon or scroll Instagram. I am only moving my manuscript forward.
At first, I chose Friday for a practical reason. I thought if my students started thinking about their books on Fridays, maybe it would bleed into the weekend. Maybe they’d keep the momentum going writing a little on Saturday morning or on Sunday afternoon.
But after a while, I realized something: it didn’t really matter what day it was.
What mattered was that it was on the calendar.
There is something powerful about having a standing appointment with yourself. We schedule workouts, business meetings, and carpool duty. But writing, especially the kind of writing that is just for you, is usually the first thing to get bumped.
It feels optional and indulgent and like something you’ll do once everything else is finished.
But everything else is never finished.
Yesterday, I read a post from a medical doctor I follow. She’s a Harvard-trained physician who spends her days helping women with mid-life health issues. Her work is rooted in data and research and measurable outcomes.
And she wrote that writing is her meditation. That it regulates her nervous system.
I read through her post twice. Because here was someone who literally understands the human body at the highest level, and she was saying that writing, simple, quiet writing, helps her feel calm and centered.
And I thought, if someone with that level of training believes writing does that, who am I to argue?
Writing calms you down and lets you meet yourself. It slows everything just enough for you to hear your own thoughts again.
I can’t think of anything more sacred than that. Listening to your own mind. Trusting your own words. Making time not just for your physical body, but for your mental space and ideas, your questions and creativity.
When you open a blank document or a blank page, you are placing something there that has never existed before. You are literally creating something out of nothing.
And you don’t have to call it a book. You don’t have to call yourself a writer. You don’t have to produce anything brilliant. Most Fridays, none of us do. We just show up, open the Google Doc, type a few awkward sentences, backspace and try again.
But at the end of that hour, something exists that didn’t before. And more importantly, we kept the appointment.
The truth is, it doesn’t have to be Friday. It could be Tuesday morning, Sunday afternoon, or Wednesday night after everyone goes to bed. The day itself isn’t the important part, the ritual is. It’s the magic that happens when you stop consuming and start creating.