Bringing Mae Flowers

I haven’t written anything since Thanksgiving.

In October and November I was doing so well with writing. Even with my insanely busy work schedule and the immense stress it caused, I was getting hundreds, sometimes thousands, of words written each week. I was so focused. All day, my mind was filled with my fantasies, and plot flowed smoothly from my head to the page. I was making so much progress, and felt so excited to sit down and write each day. Then, seemingly without warning, all my motivation disappeared.

I had the time, but suddenly lost the desire to write.

I quit my job at the end of November. After working overtime for 3 months (with no end in sight), I was too burnt out to keep going. My mental and physical health were in decline, so when the company started laying people off- I volunteered myself. I thought that this short hiatus between jobs would be the perfect opportunity to finish my book. I was already getting so much writing done around my in crazy schedule, so surely I would be able to churn out a draft once work was out of the way, but it didn’t work out that way. Once I stopped going to work, I stopped writing too.

Something similar happened when I left college too.

When I graduated college in May of 2019, I found myself with an unprecedented amount of free-time. For the last 3 years of college, I had worked full-time while going to school full-time. I barely had time to eat or sleep, nevertheless write. When I graduated, I thought I would devote the hours previously spent in class or on homework to my work- but I didn’t. At first, I told myself that I was just catching up on all the sleep I had been lacking. Then I told myself that I just needed to settle into a routine. After 6 months I finally accepted the truth; I only wanted to write when I couldn’t write.

I write the most in stolen hours.

Whether it was the 20 minute intervals between classes, breaks at work, or late at night when I should have been sleeping- I get most of my plotting and writing done when I have to fight for the time. I think part of me feels that the struggle makes it sweeter. Yes, I’ve done a significant amount of writing in cafe’s on weekends, or in designated “writing time” at home. I’ve scheduled “writing dates” for myself, and had some success with that method, sot it’s not as if I am incapable of spurring motivation on my own. But, if I am honest-the forced motivation does feel different. I spend the first half-hour trying to find the natural flow that comes immediately in the stolen moments.

Maybe I am overthinking.

I can’t help but think about Ursula’s advice to Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service. When the young witch finds that she is losing her magic and can no longer fly, she goes to visit her artist friend Ursula in the woods. Instead of encouraging Kiki “try harder”, or “practice more”, or “just do it”, the way many writers and artists are told to get through creative slumps,- Ursula does the opposite. She says:

“Then stop trying. Take long walks. Look at the scenery. Doze off at noon. Don’t even think about flying. And then, pretty soon you’ll be flying again.”

At first, it seemed like I had the opposite problem: I only wrote when I didn’t have time. When I did take time to take walks, look at the scenery, and doze off at noon- I couldn’t write. But then I realized, I only gave myself that time when I was completely burnt out. When I was writing in those stolen moments, it was because I had the energy to do it. It was because I wanted to write- not because I was forcing myself to.

I need to let my motivation return on it’s own.

I can’t pretend that I’m not disappointed in my progress this winter. The sting is made greater by the impressive leaps I made in autumn. But, I know that this slump is temporary. My creative energy ebbs and flows, and I have to ride the waves rather than fight them. Winter is always a difficult season, but the weather has been mild, and my life has become softer. I am starting to feel the words stirring in my blood again, and my mind has been turning back to the page. If I let it come naturally, I may return to writing sooner than I expect.