I wasn’t sure if I should write this post, but to be honest, I’ve suffered a serious case of writers block since January. A combination of the overexertion, physical pain, going from one bout of the flu the next, house hunting, and an unhealthy dose of writing unrelated stress, hit me pretty badly.
In the past I’ve been able to power through writers block by writing more. New ideas would always get me excited, and reading would set off fireworks in my brain. But reading lost its pleasure, and writing felt flat. Though I’d get new ideas, nothing excited, and it’s been pure drudgery.
I tried a number of things which didn’t work. I tried taking a break, which grew from one month to two. I tried writing a simple short story, but the process frustrated me to the point of tears. I tried to find ways to make writing fun again, but my go-to tricks (dancing like a fool and lighting candles) stopped working. I tried being creative in other ways. I sewed and I baked, but I was still dead tired.
You know what I realized? Sometimes its not the writing that’s the problem, but life.
I needed to take care of the other commitments first. This runs totally contradictory to some advice that you see online: make writing a priority, write everyday. That advice works for some people, but I was driving myself crazy with it. I was making myself unhealthy trying to achieve this.
I’m still working on finding balance, and I suspect that’s something I’ll keep refining as life changes. I’ve made the mistake of over-committing myself until the end of June, and until then something has to give. For now writing takes a back seat. Thankfully, at this point I don’t depend on writing fiction for income, so I do have that option.
Funny, just making that decision has lifted a great deal of stress off my shoulders, and I think I might have enough energy to write a little for fun. That’s how writing should feel, right?