Some Days
Some days you got it...and some days you don't...
I’ve fortunately never really experienced burnout or “true writer’s block,” in the sense that I simply couldn’t write anything at all, although I have experienced times (and some books) where I got stuck figuring out what to write next, basically meaning I wrote myself into a bit of a hole, and then had to work my way out of it.
Like I’ve said at other times, in my book Call the Dark—a thriller that features several characters getting trapped in a snowstorm while crossing a mountain—I felt like I too was trapped right alongside them on that damn mountain; I just wasn’t sure how to get us all over to the other side.
I’ve also never really had my writing suffer based on my mood. Generally, regardless of what’s going on in the world around me or in my own life, either personally or professionally, I’ve been able to put blinders on and get some measure of work done. I think that’s a reflex of having had so little time to write for so long, I didn’t feel I could really afford to “take days off;” there was no off button, or I wouldn’t give myself the okay to push one.
Unless I was suffering a sucking chest wound, I was going to get words down.
I’ve always thought there was something admirable in that bloody-minded perseverance, but I now think always forcing yourself up and through can be punishing, and even self-defeating.
I recently read a blog post by the wonderful author (and I’d like to think, friend) Philip Fracassi—Burnout is Real . I urge you to take a few moments to read it, as Philip relates eloquently about his own case of burnout, largely precipitated by this “get it all done“ mindset, particularly in terms of his writing and creative output. While I haven’t experienced anything quite to his degree, during those first few months after I retired to write full time, when I was really pushing myself twice as hard (reasoning, as I think Philip did) that I had to make the absolute most of it, I did find that flogging myself so hard over how much writing I was doing, nearly the drained the very joy out of the writing itself. I started to over index a touch too much on counting words and pages and hours in front of the keyboard and not relaxing and reveling in the stories I finally had the time to explore and tell.
I suddenly had all the time in the world, and there didn’t seem to be enough of it.
Writing is hard work, or at least it is for me. Even after all these novels, it still hasn’t gotten much easier. And the truth is, whether you’re writing professionally or not, some days you got it and some days you simply don’t, so it’s okay to give yourself a break, it’s okay to give yourself some latitude and grace if you only hit 1000 words rather than 1200. While I still believe there’s a fine line between grace and procrastination, I just don’t know where it is. But I do know as these last few months have worn on, I’ve tried to find myself a little more on the graceful side of it.
Kind of like getting to the other side of that mountain…
As always, feel free to—