This was before the pandemic. I said, “It’s hard to get started when I only have a short time to work before I have to go and do the next thing.”

She said, “Yeah, I know. You arrive at the studio and you say well, I only have two hours…” – and then I’m afraid I can’t tell you what she said next, because at this point my boggling circuits were overloading, all sorts of exciting warning klaxons were sounding, and I had to concentrate hard to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

“You only have two hours? Your life,” says I to myself, “is not my life.”

Two hours? TWO shaggin HOURS? Like, one hundred and twenty minutes, all joined together in a big long line?

Who has that?

People with no children, for one thing. People not in full-time employment. People in the whole of their health.

Not me.

Maybe not you either, now that we’re all locked down and trying to reshuffle everything to fit the new boundaries.

Obviously, if you have the sort of life that regularly features mythical treasures such as two-hour time-slots where you can focus on your work, that’s great. Enjoy it. Do what you do.

But let me be clear here: if you don’t have that sort of life – and many of us don’t, pandemic or no pandemic – that’s still OK.

You can still make your art.

The trick is to take the time when you can get it. Never mind two hours. With a bit of preparation, you can put two minutes to good use.

For real.

The preparation is the important part – leaving the file open on your computer or the piano lid up, having various projects ready to be grabbed and added to, according to how much time is available.

And then, when you have the luxury of ten minutes, or half an hour – or, yes, because every so often you will be able to make this happen, a clear head (remember them?) and an hour or two with all the minutes joined together like popcorn on a string – you can really get into it.

Life comes in phases.

One day, the lockdown will lift, and the headspace currently devoted to the pandemic will be freed up.

One day, I fervently hope, I’ll feel less shitty more of the time.

One day, my children will be better able to get their needs met without my help, and my time will be more my own.

But where I am now, there’s nothing “only” about two hours in which to flex my creative muscles.

And that’s OK. I’ll work with what I have.

PS: If this post rings bells for you, you might be interested in Reboot Your Creative Drive, my free course full of techniques for working creativity into the nooks and crannies of your overstuffed life.