Yes, being somewhere besides home is no reason not to be working on writing.
It helps that I’m lucky enough to have a boyfriend who is cooking dinner while I write. (How cool is that?!?) But that isn’t the only thing.
I’m being anti-social, I’m sitting in his living room while he does all the work. And I know that it is necessary, for how else will I get in writing time?
I’m not Diana Gabaldon, capable of getting up at 4 in the morning and writing for a couple of hours. I love my sleep far too much. So that means carving my writing time out of my happy evening after work time.
That can be tricky.
There’s the after work tired. The need to clean the home and kitty litter and do dishes tired. There’s the need to make food and eat it and clean up from it. There’s social time with friends and cats. There’s the rest of living and the question of having energy to do any of it.
And then there’s writing. The love of it. The heart of me. The joy of creating. And the sheer frustration of it.
So enough of the story of my writing, time to get on with the real thing.