I published my most recent book on my birthday in September, and since then I’ve barely written a thing. I’ve certainly not finished one. Still, I don’t feel a trace of regret; guilt is just an abstract concept. I’ve done other things instead, but they’re beside the point. The fact that I found a reason to write this post is not.
There are so many people preaching writing every day, much like a gospel of never-ending creativity. I’m sure that works well for them, or they wouldn’t be so excited about it—I’ve even had times when I’ve lived by the grind of daily words-on-page myself. I’m not going to lie: I enjoyed it. I probably will again. But I don’t think it’s the only way of doing things.
You see, I believe life is cyclic. Things come and go. We change and grow from our experiences. From that perspective, forcing yourself to do something the same way, all the time (like producing a certain number of words every day) is bound to fail. And that failure will hurt unnecessarily, because your expectations are mechanical and you’re organic.
There’s a word for always doing the same thing: stagnation—hardly an attractive idea to someone looking to entertain others with theirs. So before you start beating yourself up over the so-called writer’s block or creative slump or lack of interest in writing you may be experiencing, consider that you may just be meant for different things at the moment. Trust that the cycle will bring you back to creation again, once you’re ready. Once you stop judging yourself, it might be sooner than you think.
My final note on not writing is an insight: I just wrote a thing. Go figure.