I only write on Sundays (but that’s not the whole story)
Reader,
When I tell people I only work on my book projects on Sundays, they rarely believe me.
So maybe I’ll let you in on something I’m always thinking about. I’ve learned to value something far more important than word count.
We’ve all said it: “I don’t have time to write.” Or, “If only I had more time off work, then this would be easier.”
But I had to tell myself back in 2017, one year before I launched Dear Current Occupant:
If I can’t make good use of the time, energy, and space I already have, why do I believe that more of it will magically change things?
Let me back up. In 2017, my life looked like this:
– I worked a city job – I was a full-time single parent to a then 14-year-old (yikes lol) – I was organizing and directing a literary festival (from the ground up mind you!) – I was managing editor at a literary magazine (and learning the role at the same time as running the mag) – I was writing my memoir and had just started dreaming up the bones for my novel, JUNIE
And layered under all that? The messy middle: complex family stuff, no safety net, no “parent’s basement” to land in if things went sideways. If I fell, the ground was hard—and I felt every inch of it. Imagining a writing life or even thinking it was possible for me was laughable.
So of course I used to crave more time. But what I didn’t understand back then was what writing really was. And when I think about the conversations I’ve had with writers about their writing life over the years, I know I wasn’t the only one.
I didn’t realize that writing included me living my life in the way I was living it. That writing happened while I was making dinner with my son. While I was on the phone talking to a friend. While I was figuring out how to pay the phone bill after losing a regular shift.
Because your voice as a writer is shaped by how you interpret the world around you. Without that, your writing loses its depth.
How do we make space for that? How do we honour it? Value it?
Aside from making reflective writing a core part of my life and therefore a core part of how I work with writers, one of my favourite phases to support writers through is what I call “unstructured play.”
It’s the glorious mess of figuring out what moves you as person, as an artist, as a builder of story. ↓
on the left: my actual manuscripts (drafting). On the right? My tower of unstructured play.
It’s where we try things that don’t work—and where the not working gives us the gold.
It’s where you begin to get closer to your core message as a writer—what you stand for, what you believe in.
And without that? I promise you, everything you write will feel hollow. I’m not exaggerating—it’s happened to me too. More than once.
Some writers dive into unstructured play headfirst. Others are tentative, especially if they’ve always been taught that only the drafting matters.
So yes, when I say I only write on Sundays, I mean I only draft on Sundays.
But the reflection, the observation, the decision-making, the life-living? That’s happening every day. And we need to start naming that. Especially now. Today’s world is clearly telling us to hurry up, but I’m pushing pause and slowing down. Hard decision but not one I’ll ever go back on.
Even if your days feel far from “writerly,” it’s still up to you how you choose to see them.
I’ve said no—with love—to undervaluing the quiet, unseen phases of writing. Because that’s where our voice is born.
The writers who refuse to explore this part? They’re often the ones who stay stuck. I’ve seen it again and again—and you know I’m always paying attention to patterns.
So why Sundays?
That clarity didn’t happen overnight. It took years—and yes, it’s something I now help other writers figure out, too. But for me, it started with getting brutally honest about how I move through my life.
I work a lot. I also rest a lot in between. And Sundays? They became the only day where nothing was already spoken for. No commitments. No appointments. No obligations. This will look different for you.
So I had to figure out how to protect it.
I looked closely at my life—my schedule, my family dynamics, my relationships—and when I tell you I had some hard conversations, I mean hard.
I had to change the shape of certain relationships. And yes, I lost a few people I was once close to. They didn’t like this version of me—because they could no longer benefit from her.
But more on that in another letter.
Here’s what I’ll say: Your writing—all phases of it—has to be valued by you first. That’s the first step in getting others to value it, too.
I dream of the day when publishing shifts to fully honour this truth. And when I say I’m working on that? I mean it.
But for now…
This week’s Reflective Question: What’s something you’ve observed in your everyday life that’s quietly shaping your current writing project?
With care, Chelene
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What I'm saying YES to ...
As we know, with every "no" we are also saying yes to something else that we've now organically created the space for. Each week, I'll share what I'm saying yes to whether it's a book, a project, and event, a food ... the possibilities are endless!
Random mini photoshoots to inform the setting in my novel-in-progress
In a recent live session, someone shared the idea of doing mini photoshoots to help shape the imagery on our writer websites. And of course, I decided to treat it—yep, you guessed it—as unstructured play. A way to explore how I might see, taste, feel, and hear setting in a new way.
Now? On my way to appointments or during my lunch break, you better believe I’m heading outdoors—camera roll wide open. #NovelInProgress
