I’ve been working on my current manuscript for months now. It’s coming along in stop and go motion like learning to drive stick for the first time. Sometimes, everything clicks and aligns, and I can get some movement, if not distance, for a very urgent meeting. Other times, I stall because life obstacles keep getting in the way. The impulsive thing to do is to slam on the breaks when you think you’re going to crash.
The items on the list of why I don’t have time to write for myself is long. I could list them all, but a modified Stoic maxim comes to mind. “Waste no more time arguing about what a good writer should be; just be one.”