It’s Sunday. The kind of Sunday where the sky is undecided, the birds are unbothered, and the kettle boils a bit slower than usual. That sort of day. The world feels quieter, or perhaps I’ve just given myself permission to stop and listen.
A Slower Start to the Creative Day
Sunday is, for me, part rest, part reset. I try not to plan too much. I drink better coffee. Not the quick dash-in-a-mug stuff that gets me through Monday. Proper coffee. Mug-warming, soul-hugging coffee. The kind that demands a sit down and a stare out the window.
And somewhere between that first sip and the third biscuit I didn’t need but absolutely deserved, my mind drifts to stories.
When Writing Children’s Books Doesn’t Feel Like Work
I don’t always write on Sundays. Sometimes the week has wrung me dry. Other times, a Sunday sentence scribbled on a notepad becomes a whole chapter by Wednesday. Sundays are good for story-stewing. No pressure, no deadlines, just a gentle space where ideas bob to the surface like croutons in soup.
Writing children’s books, especially Space Ranger Fred and his chaotic, cupcake-flinging world, isn’t something I can switch on and off. Ideas sneak up on me. Often when I’m supposed to be relaxing. Sometimes I think my imagination doesn’t understand weekends. Fred certainly doesn’t. He’d probably spend Sundays crash-landing into jelly planets or getting tangled in anti-gravity washing lines.
But even Fred gets the odd day off.
Letting Ideas Breathe on a Slow Sunday
The beauty of a Sunday is its rhythm. No rush. No fuss. It’s a reminder that not everything needs doing now. That some things need space. Like dough rising, or ideas settling. And it’s funny how, the more I slow down, the more ideas seem to find me.
This morning, I sat down with my coffee and stared out at the trees. Proper staring. The sort of gazing that your eyes do while your brain gets up to mischief. Before long, a silly question appeared. What would happen if a tree had Wi-Fi? That’s it. Nothing earth-shattering. Just a thought. But give that thought a little room to stretch and suddenly you’re halfway through a story about digital squirrels stealing download speeds.
That’s the magic of Sundays. You don’t have to try too hard. You just have to show up with an open mind, a notebook within reach, and ideally, a warm drink.
That Sneaky Monday Feeling Creeping In
And then, there’s the other part of Sunday. The bit where I remember Monday exists.
Now, I’ve nothing against Mondays. They’re fine. Necessary. Usually loud. But they do tend to creep into my Sundays if I let them. That moment when you think, “Did I send that email?” or “What time was that Zoom call?” or worse, “Where did I leave my to-do list?”
Still, I’ve learned not to let Monday steal Sunday’s thunder. Planning for the week is fine. Staring down your calendar like it’s a boss battle in a video game, not so much.
The Gentle Planning Trick for a Writer’s Week
So I make a deal with myself. Around mid-afternoon, I open the diary. I write a few intentions. Not goals. Intentions feel softer. More human. Things like “Write two pages.” Or “Don’t forget the biscuits.” Or “Email Bob (unless Bob emails first, which he won’t, but still).”
Setting a loose shape to the week ahead makes space in my brain. It helps me close the book on the week just gone. Some Sundays, I even write a letter to myself. I don’t post it. That would be odd. I just scribble a few thoughts. What I’m proud of. What I learned. What I want more of.
Last Sunday’s letter said, “Well done, you didn’t burn the toast and you remembered to laugh.” Good enough.
Writing in Pyjamas Is Still Writing for Children
The truth is, being a writer isn’t always a flurry of inspiration. Sometimes it’s sitting in your dressing gown, second coffee in hand, watching clouds and wondering if they look more like sheep or ships today. Sometimes it’s writing three bad paragraphs just to find one good sentence.
And sometimes, it’s doing nothing at all and letting that be part of the process.
I’ve learned to honour the slow days. They teach me patience. They teach me that even stillness can be creative. They remind me that stories grow quietly, like plants. Or beards. Or email inboxes.
Let Sundays Be Sundays for Storytellers
So here I am, on a soft, slightly soggy Sunday, telling you this:
If you’re tired, rest. If you’re inspired, write. If you’re both, write slowly.
Drink something warm. Notice something small. Let your imagination wander without supervision. It’s surprising what it brings back.
Tomorrow will come, with its emails and deadlines and shoelace emergencies (Fred again). But today, you can be where you are. And if that means dressing gown and toast crumbs and a silly idea scribbled on a receipt, then you, my friend, are doing just fine.
So here’s to Sundays. And coffee. And the stories inside us waiting for just enough quiet to be heard.
Until next time, Matt
About the Author
Matt Newnham is a UK-based children’s author, copywriter, and creative storyteller passionate about inspiring young minds through imaginative and meaningful stories. With a background in publishing, self-publishing, and marketing, Matt combines heart, humour, and purpose in every tale he tells. Discover more at mattnewnham.com or connect on LinkedIn and Instagram.
