By Dick Lochte

Anyone who has tuned in on PBS’ Masterpiece Theater has seen the avuncular founder of Viking Cruises, Thorstein Hagen, poking at a fire in some frosty clime and offering the following advice in his comfortable Norwegian-accented baritone: “When you really philosophize about it, there is only one thing you don’t have enough of. That’s time. Time is the only scarce commodity.”

Though Mr. Hagen understandably focuses on travel as the best way of using that commodity, he is on the money when adding how important it is to spend our hours “wisely.” Most people are aware of this. For those of us who write for a living, it necessitates our developing some sort of workable daily schedule.  

Take the great Raymond Chandler, for example. In one of his collected letters he described a rather Spartan technique for forging ahead on his novels. He’d set a number of hours aside when, while not forcing himself to write, he refused himself the pleasure of doing anything else. Since, in twenty years, he completed only a couple of dozen short stories, six complete novels (and even fewer screenplays), he apparently spent a ghastly amount of his precious time staring at blank walls and even blanker sheets of paper. No wonder he wound up hitting the sauce.

Agatha Christie often scribbled in her famous notebooks in between performing mundane household tasks, like washing dishes. For longer stretches, she preferred quiet, solitary environments and once said, “The best way of getting down to work is in a very bad hotel where there is nothing else.” Not a plan Thorstein Hagen would suggest, but Lawrence Block, who is happy writing while traveling, might agree, assuming the hotel would be a scosche closer to five star.

Mickey Spillane, at least during his early years, would sit down at the typewriter, slip the end of a roll of butcher paper under the platen and keep hitting the keys for as long as it took to complete the book. John D. MacDonald, on the other hand, wrote from four to eight hours a day, six days a week. He preferred to create with the Florida sun shining, while Gillian Flynn’s preference is for the silence and stillness of nighttime.

The main take away from all this is that your lifestyle and/or livelihood will always dictate your work schedule and it would be a mistake to try to adopt the schedule of a novelist just because you like their books. One size does not fit all. 

So, how, then, do I think I can help you find ways to effectively use your precious creating hours? Well, four decade’s experience has taught me several time-saving hacks for writers, beginning with:

1. Embrace your occasional insomnia. On those nights when sleep won’t come, don’t fight it. Don’t use that audio book to lull you to dreamland. Worse yet, do not leave the bed to watch late night TV. You may eventually sleep, but you’ll wake up the next day, eyes burning, slack-jawed, disgusted with yourself and staring at Morning Joe. Better to stay abed and mull over your manuscript. Either the mental effort will put you to sleep or, when morning arrives, you’ll have solved a problem or two. Win-win.
2. If you have a dog, wonderful. If not, get one, preferably a rescue. Let them walk you every morning, providing you with the time to think about your book while simultaneously getting needed exercise. The idea here is to use every spare task – particularly those requiring little or no thought – to prepare for the magic moment when you sit down to put words on a screen.
3. If there are any errands or tasks – from responding to email, banking or visiting the doctor – get them done before starting to write. It’s difficult to make progress in short sprints of composing interrupted by forays into the real world.
4. Similarly, do whatever you can, short of losing friends for life, to avoid lunch plans. Dining out at midday will mean either a) you won’t be getting to your manuscript until the late afternoon or b) you’ll lose the morning’s momentum. 
5. Previously I mentioned emails. Before starting work, it’s important to sort your mail, electronic or snail. Much of it, including texts, can be put aside. Spam, adverts, either ignore or send to trash.
6. Research – using Google, Chrome, Brave, Bing, DuckDuckGo or old-schooling at a brick-and-mortar library – should be done before you start to write. When writing, I personally prefer to keep research to a minimum. A big reason Billy Williams and I work so well together. Along with his flair for plotting, he is a true believer in research, a reason why our thriller, Rockets’ Red Glare, is so specific, authentic and well-documented as regards locations, protocols and, especially, weaponry and technology. 
7. When working, eschew social media and, for peace of mind, the trade news (Publishers Weekly, Variety, etc.). Otherwise, you will be subjected to dozens of forthcoming books, movies and streamers that seem woefully similar to the manuscript you’re creating. That kind of discouragement is not what any writer needs. During those hours, it’s best to consider your word processor as nothing more than a sophisticated typewriter. Even hold off on the spellchecks and word counts until you’ve decided to call it a day.
8. You also may want to let your phone answer your calls, especially if the writing is going particularly well, what Truman Capote once described as “catching the wave.”
9.  How much time should you spend going over previous work? Assuming you’re not suffering from long-term memory loss, spend only as long as it takes to cover the previous day’s output. Then push on. Your goal is to finish that first draft, not to continue polishing forever.
10. Quitting time? Your choice, but better not at the end of a chapter. It’s way easier to start up again from the middle of the action.

Finally, since this began with a quote about time from Viking Cruise’s Thorstein Hegan, I’d like to end with my favorite quote on the subject. It was delivered by the actor Peter Lorre, portraying a shady international rogue in the hugely underrated, entertaining comedy-thriller Beat the Devil (written by none other than the afore-mentioned Truman Capote). “Time. Time. What is time?” Mr. Lorre asks his seedy partners in his distinctive nasal accent. “The Swiss manufacture it. The French hoard it. The Italians squander it. Americans say it is money. Hindu’s say it does not exist. Know what I say? I say time is a crook.”