I didn't write for over a month

And got my spark back

A lot has happened recently: Moving to a new flat, travelling to South Korea and Japan for three weeks, bad news in the family, and getting ill as soon as I returned home. All of these events led to me feeling utterly overwhelmed with life, and while I told myself at first that I would only stop posting on Substack for a week, it ended up being over a month.

But hey, I’m back!

So, how did it get to this in the first place?

I used to struggle a lot with feeling I had no purpose in life. Like whatever job I would ultimately be forced to do would bring me no joy whatsoever, and I would be miserable by 30, wishing I could turn back time and start anew. That was, until I realised that while difficult, it is not impossible to turn writing into a career. Even knowing that only a small percentage of aspiring writers actually make a living from it, I was willing to try, willing to follow my dreams and risk feeling disappointed rather than regretting not having tried at all.

However, that left me spending 1795428 hours a week writing, thinking about getting an agent, my writer socials, etc., and next to zero hours on self-care. If I took a break, I was left feeling guilty, because you know what else I could have done during that break? Write!

Maybe Burnout is a strong word in this context, but before I went on my trip, I felt a mental block as soon as I sat down to write. Or talked about writing. Or thought about writing.

When I went to Korea, I didn’t think about my novels for two weeks. I felt no urge to write. And as someone who has had trouble sticking with every hobby I’ve tried, EXCEPT writing, and who was planning to turn this hobby into a career, this was troubling.

Had I completed an MA in Creative Writing and finished writing two books, only to lose the passion for something I thought would stay with me for my entire life? Would I have to embark on the journey to find meaning in my life yet again when I finally thought I had figured it out?

After an existential crisis in the middle of my trip, I accepted that if I had returned to writing after some time in the past, the same would happen again. I allowed myself to rest and didn’t try to force myself to write anymore. I took a long, needed break.

And, surprise, my creativity stirred, slowly rising from its brief (albeit stress-inducing) slumber. I started to ponder over my novels again. I started having new project ideas. I still didn’t feel the urge to write, but not feeling my mind erect a six-foot titanium wall every time I as much as deliberated thinking about my work was a massive improvement.

Now that I’m back home, I am EXCITED to continue editing my novel. I am looking forward to working on my next project. And I am most of all relieved that I didn’t lose my passion for writing.

Apart from the sheer number of things going on in my life recently, I have considered the very obvious culprit for my brief writer’s block:

I expect too much of myself.

I already discussed my problems with perfectionism and the inner critic before, and while I have gotten better in certain aspects, the expectations I set for myself are still too high. The deadlines are too tight, the overall time plan too rigid, and on top of everything, I don’t allow myself breaks. That might not be unachievable for some, but it demands near constant concentration, work, and dedication, which I am unable to supply.

And that’s okay.

I still have goals I want to achieve, but after experiencing what pressuring myself can do to my creativity, I have decided to take things more slowly. Things will work out eventually if I keep working towards my goals, and who cares if it’s now or in three years?

I hope all of you have been well, and I am excited to be back on Substack!

Have a lovely day :)