‘Where did you find time to write a book?’ asked literally everyone I’ve spoken to over the past few years.

Before there was any artwork, there were rhymes…terrible rhymes

Well, contrary to the opinion of my best mate, it wasn’t by manipulating space/time (Not this time anyway).

No, to write novels, scripts, and rhymes — I did three simple things.

Plan. Write. Adapt.

I planned out what I would write, when it would be written, and where the writing would take place.

Then, I started writing. And I kept writing until there were lots of words on all the pages.

It was all terrible. But I kept adapting it until it was less terrible than it was before.

But that’s not actually what I meant by adapting. To adapt means to find a way to plan and write no matter what circumstances you are in.

I can illustrate this by recounting for you what one of my days looks like and how I squeezed writing in everywhere it was possible.

Here goes:

5AM — Wake up. Just kidding. Go back to sleep because its 5AM and I’m not Dwayne Johnson.

6AM — Actually wake up. Run 5K. Because fitness. Achieve a terrible time because I’m distracted by trying to find words that rhyme with Daddy. Shabby. Baddie. Savvy? Julia Donaldson never said life would be like this.

6.45AM — Shower. Because hygiene. Draw silhouettes of book characters on shower screen. The only place where nobody can see how desperately I need an artist.

7AM — 2-year-old son tries to wake up. Negotiating with him to stay in bed until breakfast is ready. Which will be NEVER. He has breakfast at nursery. Additional time allowance.

7.15AM — Abandon my own breakfast plans because 4-year-old daughter wakes up. Get her ready for school. It’s world book day and she wants to go to nursery dressed as a stormtrooper? I only have myself to blame.

7.45AM — Nursery run. Try my best not to verbally or physically assault any other parents in front of son.

7.46AM — Fail. Apologise to nursery.

8.10AM — Kiss gorgeous wife. Make absolutely sure there is no possible way I can be on time for work.

8.30AM — School run. Do everything in my power not to interact with any other human beings.

The office. Where I spit my best rhymes.

9.00AM — Train station. 9 minutes till the train. Planning time. Here I use google drive to go over my notes for the next scene. It’s all been worked out in advance, so this is just a refresher course.

9.09AM — Train is delayed. F**k southern rail. But at least I have another 11 minutes to straighten out some inconsistencies in this scene.

9.20AM — On the train. Crammed in the seat nearest the toilets that smell like someone is raising a litter of pigs inside. F**k southern rail. Approximately 30 minutes until I have to take the tube. Switch to Google Docs. Time to invent an entirely new character whose name rhymes with a word I’m attached to. ‘BELL’ MEET ‘ROCHELLE’. All while being elbowed by the 6'8" man sitting next to me reading the 7'7" financial times.

10.10AM — Arrive at depot. You didn’t think the train was going to reach its destination on time, did you? Bless your naive little heart. Additional minutes spent googling words that rhyme with son. One? Done. Bum? Nope. DELETE ALL SON REFENCES FROM BOOK. Problem solved before the 10 minute walk to the tube station. Work synced to Google Drive. Continue reviewing scene on the move.

If I’m on the tube, it’s Google Keep time. Red notes mean writing ideas

10.15AM — Bumped into 17 people while walking with head down. It’s London so… we all apologise to each other. Jump on the tube. No mobile data. Also, Tube WIFI is a myth. Switch to Google Keep. Here I keep a list of everything wrong with what was just written and new ideas as they crop up. I tick off the list of things I’ve already fixed and chalk up some new changes.

10AM — Arrive at actual work. Because money.

1PM — Lunchtime. Socializing? Small talk? No chance. Time to review feedback from other parents. “One idea I had is that you could change the part where…” NOPE. Ignore all constructive and destructive criticism. Plow ahead.

3PM — That big important presentation that is critical to my role in the company… can go to hell because I’m desperately trying to make ‘doctor’ and ‘not her’ rhyme. Nope, not happening. Erase the doctor character. Nailed it. And I tackled the Presentation the way I always intended. Freestyle. NAILED IT.

6.30PM — Train home. Make sure I’m first to board at the depot by slipping in between the elderly and pregnant passengers, then avoiding all forms of eye contact, thus ensuring myself some prime seated real estate. (Just kidding, I’m a gentleman. Most days...) Another rhyme comes into existence before, finally, I return home.

7.30PM — Clean those kids up. Recount tails of an extraordinarily greedy caterpillar to put them to sleep. Prepare astoundingly good cuisine for the Mrs. Then gossip about other couples and their kids who aren’t as amazing as ours.

So many red notes to get through

9PM — Catch up on Star Trek and Supernatural. (One of these is the best show on TV) Miss out on crucial story developments while deleting all of the complete and utter garbage I rhymed today. Keep that Bell and Rochelle bit though.

Tomorrow. Rinse. Lather. Repeat.

The moral of this story. F**k southern rail. But also, there’s always time.

Someone once told me that time is like a predator. Stalking you. Time is going to hunt you down and make the kill.

But I like to think that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey, and reminds us to cherish every moment… because they’ll never come again.

Yes, both those quotes were from Star Trek: Generations. No, it wasn’t a good enough movie to live your life by.

Days, weeks and months of refinement later. I’ve got some intact rhymes that don’t entirely suck. It’s a monumental achievement for a dude that hasn’t written a rhyme since his Classical Civilisations exam in college (true story — I scored 100%).

But judging by that deformed-looking drawing on the shower screen, it’s most certainly going to need someone with a little more artistic talent to bring it to life.

Time to find an illustrator.