Your book doesn’t need you. Or your time.

Fragments of a book that isn’t waiting.

We could say the title out loud and sound pretty wise. Maybe even tweet it, if that’s still a thing. But is it true? Can you truly mean it without sounding like you’re avoiding the work?

I’ve circled this fact from nearly every angle through posting daily on Substack. Noticing that there’s no writer.

Which makes this other noticing inevitable: If there’s no writer, then what exactly would a book need from you? Your hours, habits, craft?

Your book obviously isn’t counting the minutes nor words, so why should you? It’s not measuring your effort in Pomodoros or word count. It’s not even waiting for you to become ready at all.

It looks like it asks something from you, yes. But not always something obvious. Sometimes what it asks is fragmented attention. That’s already enough. Or the mess you thought had nothing to do with writing.

You’re gathering the book, and it’s already woven through your day-to-day.

We definitely don’t need to just write more. Let’s start noticing what we have, scattered across moments you didn’t call “writing time.”

Noticing what’s already here, where you didn’t expect to find it.