I always thought being a writer meant a lifestyle. Wandering the world with a battered notebook, scribbling down stories in some tiny Parisian flat or by the beach in Mexico.

In my mind, I’d be living off coffee, book royalties, and pure creative energy.

Reality, as it turns out, has other ideas.

I am a writer—but not quite the version I imagined. The truth is, modern life doesn’t easily accommodate the starving-artist aesthetic, especially when rent exists. It didn’t take long for me to realize that if I wanted to keep writing without also living off instant noodles, I’d need a day job. Begrudgingly at first—and then, surprisingly, with a bit of gratitude—I found one that worked for me.

After leaving university early to chase my writing dream, I spent a year performing poetry at open mic nights, making about £18 total. Romantic? Sure. Sustainable? Absolutely not. Eventually, I stumbled into online content writing—not quite penning the next great romance novel, but still writing. Alongside that, I leaned into my love of language and started teaching English. Being bilingual in English and Spanish, with a degree in world literature and a CELTA under my belt, it felt like a natural fit.

Teaching, it turns out, is an oddly perfect job for a writer. It gets you out of the house, into the world, and talking to people from all walks of life—people with stories, heartbreaks, dreams, and quirks you’d never invent on your own. It’s like character research, but you get paid for it.

Balancing Writing and Work

Of course, teaching—or any day job—means less time for writing. That’s just the reality. But I’ve found a rhythm that works for me, one that keeps my dream alive without burning me out.

First, I try to keep my schedule flexible. I work part-time—some days online, some days in person—which gives me at least one or two days a week solely for writing. On teaching days, I don’t expect miracles, but I carve out little pockets of time—half an hour here, twenty minutes there—to scribble down thoughts or ideas. Even the smallest progress counts.

My non-negotiable practice? Morning pages. Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way introduced me to the idea, and it stuck. Every morning, I write three pages of whatever’s in my head—rants, dreams, half-baked story ideas—without judgment. It’s like decluttering my mind so I can focus on the writing that actually matters.

Writing on Your Own Terms

I don’t set rigid rules for myself—writing is already hard enough without turning it into a chore. Some days, morning pages are all I manage. Other days, I get into a flow and my wrist aches from scribbling. On dedicated writing days, I aim for a few solid hours or a set number of pages, but I try to stay flexible. Inspiration isn’t something you can schedule.

Equally important? Getting away from the desk. I can’t write if I’m not living, so I make a point of walking—not just to clear my head, but to refill the creative well. I wander through the city, sit in cafés, watch people and quietly invent lives for them. Who’s waiting for a date that might not show up? Who’s texting someone they shouldn’t? It’s all material, whether I use it or not.

Ultimately, balancing writing with a day job is less about strict schedules and more about gentle persistence—showing up, even if it’s just for ten minutes, and finding joy in the process. My dream of being a full-time romance writer hasn’t vanished—it’s just evolving, shaped by reality but still quietly, stubbornly alive.

If you’re juggling work and writing, know this: it’s possible. Imperfect, messy, sometimes exhausting—but possible.

And you know what?

The stories you write, carved out of stolen moments and real-life experiences, might just be richer for it.