It’s not selfish to want to write a novel, even as a mom
It’s not selfish to write: a 4-week series for moms with dreams
Let’s just say it: we are still being told—directly and indirectly—that a mother’s dreams should come last.
That writing a book is “nice” but not necessary. That carving out time for creativity when you’ve got a young child at home is indulgent, frivolous, or somehow stealing from your family.
But here’s what I believe with my whole chest:
It’s not selfish to want to write. It’s human.
You’re not wrong for wanting more than goldfish crumbs on the floor and a to-do list that never ends.
You’re not selfish for dreaming of bookstores or book deals—or simply of finishing a story that’s been sitting in your soul for years.
You’re not wrong for craving quiet time, uninterrupted thoughts, your fingers on a keyboard, your imagination stretching past bedtime and breakfast.
You are a full person. And full people have stories to tell.
For me, this has been a lesson I’ve had to return to again and again—especially after becoming a mom.
Even now, I sometimes catch myself shrinking my writing down to make it “less disruptive,” or over-explaining why I need time alone to write, as if I need to justify it.
But I don’t. And neither do you.
I remember attending a virtual writing retreat when my son was about 10 months old. I was locked away in my office so I could focus on my writing, but I could hear him in the other room—giggling, cooing, and crying. I started to wonder: Should I check on him? Is this retreat a waste of my time because I only have limited time with my son, since he goes to daycare and I work during the week? Is he going to miss me if I spend all this time writing?
Fortunately, I’ve got a competent partner who got him dressed and out of the house, so the sounds weren’t as distracting, and since I’d paid for the retreat, I made sure to stay for the full four hours.
I made a ton of progress on my novel during that retreat, and when I was done, I spent the rest of that weekend with my son, getting lots of snuggles and giggles. He didn’t even register that I was gone, all he cared about was the fact that I was present with him the rest of the weekend.
There is this toxic idea in our culture that motherhood is supposed to consume you. That if you’re not fully available 24/7, you’re doing it wrong.
But what if choosing to write is actually part of how we do it right?
What if telling your story—starting your novel, finishing that draft, or just getting words down again—is part of how you show your child what a vibrant, whole life can look like?
Because here’s the truth:
The world doesn’t get better when women silence their voices.
And your family doesn’t get better when you ignore what matters to you.
They get the best of you when you’re in alignment, lit up, alive.
And if writing helps you feel like that? Then it matters. A lot.
P.S: It’s not indulgent to want help getting there faster—it’s smart. Coaching gives you a space to untangle guilt, build momentum, and reclaim your identity as a writer. We’re halfway through 2025—are you where you wanted to be with your writing? If not, let’s change that. Book a consultation call to get started.
And come back next week, where I’ll share how writing fills your cup and helps you show up better for your family.
