Mornings or evenings are the most obvious. A word in favour of mornings. You may be an early riser, who is up with the larks. I highly recommend getting the job done in the morning. It will improve your mood for the rest of the day, and you won’t have the nagging thought at the back of your mind that you need to try and fit time in later on. Lighting the fire of ideas in the morning has the benefit of generating a smouldering effect of ideas brewing up in the day, that you can then collect for use. You might be lucky and be able to sneak a bit more time in at the end of the day to write up those thoughts.
On the other hand, being creative at night also has its advantages, I have found. If you want to memorise something, last thing at night is very good. When I was learning all the 2,000 characters in Japanese, I tried to put them into my brain at night, till I could hardly keep my eyes open. Somehow, they travelled around my brain at night, in my dreams, and popped out the next morning much more easily. The same can be true of a piece of writing. The first draft of a poem can be dashed off before midnight, percolate in the mind overnight, and get edited the next day. Often as you are just about to nod off happily, that perfect ending will frame itself in your mind: in which case you probably need to put the light on/get your phone out and record it before you go to sleep. This will make you thoroughly satisfied with your efforts for the day. Problems in writing can be like a crossword clue. If you sleep on the idea and look at it the next day, with fresh eyes and a re-tuned brain, the letters slot into place. Actually, your brain has been working on it overnight. It’s an amazing organ.
As soon as your window of opportunity to have a writing slot opens, take it straight away, that very second. Do not stop, “do not pass go”, sit down and just do it. Don’t tidy your desk. Don’t do a stroke of housework. Don’t look at your phone. Just sit down and get started without a second to lose. Fit in the other stuff later.
The dead time that commuting takes up, might also be an opportunity to steal time. When I lived in London, I wrote haiku while being wedged between perspiring bodies on the Tube in the morning rush. And the evening rush. That’s a good use of time and allows you to escape the scene you’re in. Also, when I lived in Japan, I had a very long commute on a train to and from University, which took the best part of two hours each way. I got a long spell of undisturbed time in which I could do my homework and learn my Japanese characters. If you can sleep standing up, as a lot of late-night commuters seem to be able to do on Japanese trains, I can tell you that you can definitely write standing up!
Think of time as something with elastic properties. Bend it. You will find that when you are running with a project you use time well and steam through the days. If you slow down and miss a few days, you stall and you will feel, in a way, that life has slowed down. You have missed an opportunity.
It might be that you are unlikely to have a waking moment on your own, what with a partner, children, office colleagues and a dog. You have to be inventive. If the only warm room in the house is the kitchen and that kitchen is shared, then snuggle up.
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