Why Consistency Isn’t the Goal

Writing through motherhood, morning sickness, and everything in between.

Happy Friday lovely writers.

It’s been a minute since I last posted.

The good news is that my self-imposed break was for a teeny tiny, but life-altering reason…

I’m pregnant again!

Baby number two is on the way and due in January. This baby comes hot on the heels of my rambunctious little boy, who is currently only 16 months, which means that come the new year, I’ll be the proud (and probably very tired) mother of two under two.

As you can imagine, I’ve been feeling a maelstrom of emotions with this news. Excited! Daunted! Overwhelmed!

But more than anything, I’ve been feeling very tired and very sick. 😬

(Side note: morning sickness is such a misleading term, isn’t it? For me, it’s more like having a never-ending hangover, without any of the fun the night before.)

And so, I stepped away. I let myself process the news. I let myself focus on my little growing family. And (as much as I could) I let myself rest.

Now here I am, in the second trimester, where food is suddenly appealing again, I have enough energy to do more than the bare minimum, and I remember what it feels like to be creative.

This break got me thinking about something I always seem to be chasing, but never truly achieve: consistency.

I’ve always believed that “slow and steady wins the race,” and I do still believe that. But when your “slow” feels more like a snail’s crawl, or even comes to a complete halt, it can be all too easy to feel a bit flat.

My first pregnancy was the same. Full of stops and starts. I could just never seem to get into the flow. And flow is really key for me, especially when drafting.

Then I had my son, and miraculously, my mojo returned. I drafted two novels during my maternity leave and started editing a third. For a very short time, I felt like I had some level of consistency… until I went back to work and had to adapt to, yet another, new normal.

And this is often the case for me. I’m productive in short bursts. When I draft, I fast draft. When a new story grips me, it’s all-consuming. I’ve had seasons where I wrote every morning, or hit my word count five days a week. I’ve done NaNoWriMo. I’ve drafted novels in under three months. I know I can do it.

I just can’t do it consistently.

And I find that really frustrating.

I often catch myself thinking, If I could just keep going like this for the rest of the year, I could finish X by X. But eventually, I run out of steam and go back to a snail’s pace, or stall completely.

Consistency has always felt like the magic beans that would finally make everything click. If I could just be consistent, I think, I’d write more. I’d be productive. I’d finally feel like a “real” writer.

But if I’m honest, maybe true consistency, as I’ve been defining it, just isn’t realistic.

Life changes. Energy shifts. Something knocks the schedule off course, and everything unravels. Recently, it’s been pregnancy and motherhood. In the past, it was a new job, or moving house, or just... life being life.

Yes, lately my inconsistency has felt more pronounced. I have a toddler who doesn’t believe in schedules (unless they’re his), and pregnancy has completely thrown my sleep (and my brain) into disarray. (Pregnancy insomnia is real. And cruel.)

But that doesn’t mean it’s over. It doesn’t mean I’m not a writer. That everything I’ve created before was a waste. Or that I’ll never create again. It just means, creatively speaking, I’m in a slow season.

And that is okay.

Slow and steady does win the race.

Rest is productive.

Stopping isn’t failure.

I’ve been thinking: maybe the problem isn’t that I haven’t been consistent. Maybe the problem is how I’ve been defining consistency in the first place.

What if consistency doesn’t mean writing every day at the same time, hitting the same word count, or sticking to a plan?

What if it means returning, again and again, to my writing? Refusing to believe the voice that tells me I don’t have time, or that I’ll never reach the finish line.

What if it means writing in bursts when the energy is there, and giving myself grace when it’s not?

So I’m learning to work with the rhythm of my life as it is. Not as I wish it were. Not as it used to be. But as it is right now.

There’s still a part of me that longs for structure and certainty. And honestly, one day I will get back to that. One day I’ll have teenagers who sleep in late and want to be left alone. And that day will likely be a bittersweet one, as I work away in my office, missing the days of chubby arms and toothless grins, of cries calling out for me in the middle of the night, the times when only mummy will do.

I suppose we have to be careful what we wish for, right?

So today, I’m choosing to write this post at 5am, knowing full well that tomorrow I might choose to cuddle up with my toddler and sleep instead. And I won’t beat myself up about it.

Because yes, consistency matters. But so does existing in the present. So does giving yourself grace.

This season isn’t forever. But it is the one I’m in and it’s a beautiful season I don’t want to miss.

If I want to keep writing (and I do), I have to write from where I am, not from where I wish I could be. And more than that, I want to enjoy it. To relish this season of chaos and joy.

So yes, I’m back. Not quite on schedule. But back all the same.

✨ Want to chat with me more about this? Head to the members chat, I’d love to hear how you’re redefining your writing routines too. I also plan to start sharing some journaling prompts in the chat too :)