When I was young I took my writing seriously enough to chase it. That is, until I didn’t. Relationships happened. Travel happened. A career happened. Life did what life does: it filled the space I didn’t protect.
I know I’m not the only aspiring writer with an unfinished novel (or two) and a long trail of “if onlys.” When we’re young, focus feels like a personality trait you either have, or that you don’t. It seems predetermined. In reality, it’s actually something most of us have to learn to cultivate through repetition. In time, focusing on anything is possible when you’ve removed the barriers to entry. This is why if you’re trying to get fit you pack your gym back the night before you hit the gym. You remove that one barrier to going.
The older I get, the better I understand that fiction isn’t something you squeeze into the small gaps in your schedule. It’s not like taking a quick nap or washing the dishes. Writing fictions demands a particular kind of attention—one that’s almost spiritual—and it doesn’t thrive when treated as a third wheel.
It’s taken me years to admit I’m ready to prioritize my own goals rather than someone else’s. And so, for the first time since my creative writing MA, I’m taking my fiction writing seriously. After all, what could be more important than creating worlds for others to escape into, especially in these dark times?
“But Candice,” I hear you asking, “what does focusing on it actually look like? Fo’ real girl, you gotta walk your talk.”
I hear you! And yes, you’re totally right. For me it looks like doing something scary, say…quitting a job? And in September 2025, I did just that. I didn’t leave because I was fired or pushed out, or even because I had a flawless plan. I quit because I wanted to make room for writing, and I finally trusted myself enough to try.
I chose me over not me for once. Of course, I know this isn’t possible for everyone. My partner has made this feasible and I do still have enough in savings that I can cover my own back for a few months. Nothing like pressure, right?
Practically speaking however, going whole hog on writing looks like not chasing full-time work (occasional contract and freelance is fine), it looks like reading a lot, and it looks like writing every single day. Every. Single. Day.
And yes, reading counts. Reading is the quickest way I know to re-enter the writing mindset. I cannot fathom being a writer without first being a reader and so, me and my new Kindle Colorsoft, will be spending a lot of time together this year, ideally with a curled-up cat nearby and absolutely with a good cup of tea.
As for daily writing, that’s just what you have to do. Especially if you’re a little rusty like me. Ray Bradbury said it best:
You must write every single day of your life… You must lurk in libraries and climb the stacks like ladders to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads… may you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world.
This time I’m also writing my story chronologically. I think writing disjointed scenes made finishing my first novel really hard (aside from allowing all those other things to distract me). Of course there were probably other problems too, including moving around a lot, but that was a big one.
In December I began plotting the novel I always wanted to read but that doesn’t exist. It involves scuba diving. It involves a little bit of fantasy/sci-fi, and it involves dystopian themes. I won’t say more than that.
If you’re wondering who gave that advice on what to write, it was Toni Morrison, another gem of a writer and poet. She was the one who said:
If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.
Must. Yes. Just, yes.
Though I’ve always been a pantser, I’m trying something different. I’m plotting. I’ve no idea if this will make the story feel more stilted but quite frankly my only goal is to write a shitty first draft. Right now I’ve got the acts and scenes mapped out. I’ve even got loose character arcs planned. My plot’s stuck to the wall in a crescendoing line of post-it notes and my Scrivener instance is packed full of notes on character, setting and plot.
Do I have other things I’ll be working on? Yes, some freelance writing, a couple of dive travel assignments, and a few other smaller side projects (what can I say, I contain multitudes). But the novel is now at the center of my universe.
PS: The Bone Houses (pictured in this post’s featured image) is a fantastic book. Though billed as a YA fantasy horror novel, it doesn’t feel quite like the horror you might be imagining. The graphic descriptions of the undead probably do most of the work of putting it in that category. For atmosphere it’s a 10/10 and for story and plot, also, in my opinion, a killer.
