# How to write when you have 30 minutes or less

[Alex Eos](https://substack.com/@alexeos)

Feb 26, 2026

### **When I Write, It’s on Stolen Time**

When I write, I’m doing it on stolen time—and I know this topic is near and dear to some of you. Time is the real currency. So I carve out thirty-minute sprints on my commute, or during lunch when I’m basically inhaling a sandwich like it’s a medical procedure. Weekends are where I can go long-form: real writing blocks, sometimes hours, like I’m trying to outrun my own to-do list.

---

## **The inconvenient truth about my writing life**

When I write, I’m working with limited time. I’m not living in a candlelit cabin with a typewriter and a morally supportive raven—though some days I wish that were the case.

I write on a loud, crowded subway train—on my iPhone, in Scrivener—with people’s asses in my face, praying to God nobody turns my commute into a biological event.

I’ve gotten to the point where I can grip a bus strap or subway pole and type one word at a time, like I’m sending a distress signal. If I get an open seat? Two thumbs. Full speed. I start filling in the void like my life depends on it.

The goal isn’t perfection.

The goal is continuity.

On weekdays, I average around 1,600 words by doing two or three thirty-minute sessions: once on the way to work, once at lunch, and—if I’m lucky—once on the way home.

And yes: I pray to the universe for a delayed train.

Not because I hate my job. I love my job. Getting paid is a plus. But if the MTA wants to hand me fifteen extra minutes because of random subway shenanigans, service issues, or whatever fresh chaos is happening underground?

I take it. I accept the gift. I write.

---

### **My “sprint” rules (borrow them if you want)**

Here’s the system I keep coming back to:

1. Thirty minutes counts. If you did it, it counts. If you showed up, it counts.
2. Start mid-scene if you have to.
3. Your brain loves pretending the beginning is sacred. It’s not. Start where the energy is.
4. Write ugly on purpose. The draft isn’t the book. The draft is the raw material the book is made from.
5. Momentum is worth protecting. If I’m on a roll, I don’t stop to “fix.” I leave myself a note and keep moving.

---

### **Why I’m telling you this**

Because I know how it feels to care deeply about a topic—and to want it handled the “right” way.

But the right way still has to fit inside a human life.

So this is me saying: if you’re writing in scraps of time, you’re not failing. You’re doing the work the way most people actually have to do it.

### **Your turn**

What does your writing time look like right now—scraps, blocks, chaos, or a suspicious amount of free time you’re hiding from the rest of us?

(And if you’ve cracked the code on writing without needing a sandwich as emotional support, let me know.)