Taking a break from writing was the quickest way to start writing again.

After making it to over 66,000 words on my book earlier this year, I took a 3.5 month break from writing.

I finally started writing again last week.

Here are all the emotions that I experienced along the way:

By the start of April, I’d written about 50,000 words in six months. This was the longest time I’d ever had a regular writing practice since my teens. I felt great about that. But I’d also hit a bit of of a wall in my personal life, with a difficult catsit, trying to ween off antidepressants, and trying to launch a course while juggling new freelance clients. I was out of energy and emotional bandwidth.

By the start of May, I hadn’t written in a month. I had to admit to myself that I needed a break. And sure, I hadn’t been writing for weeks anyways. But I needed an intentional break. It wasn’t just about not writing, but about allowing myself not to, and celebrating myself for it.

I almost cried tears of relief at this choice. After working through all my writing and creative blocks over the past year, I knew that there were no other emotions in my way: just the certainty that taking a break from writing was the quickest way to get back to writing.

I slowed down in other areas of my life, too, carving out as much mental and emotional rest as I could. Something magical happened later that month. I started writing poetry again. More than I had in the past few months. Now that I wasn’t forcing myself to work on my book, the (small) bandwidth I had could go towards bursts of poetry writing. Which gave me back more energy.

In June, I could feel my energy coming back to me, and with it, the desire and the need to write. I was reaping the benefits of the break. Not just because I felt rested. But because instead of feeling guilty for not writing, I felt grateful and proud of myself for slowing down. And so, by the end of June, I started to feel ready to get writing again.

What I didn’t know, was where or how to start. This was the tricky bit. I could feel the fear quietly creeping in. Was I going to manage to write again? Was my writing any good? What about my book, what would happen when I finished it? If it got turned down by loads of agents, would that invalidate my story? I was getting caught up in fears about the future.

So I gave myself more time with this experience. I didn’t believe the thoughts, but I did believe they were coming from a valid and important place inside me. I was scared. Writing a book is scary. Sharing it with the world is scary. Rebuilding a creative habit is hard. So I gave myself more validation, more compassion, and more patience. I would write again, but there was no point rushing it now.

In the past year, I’ve used a few online body doubling spaces to write, in addition to writing in my own time. And I had this idea that I should start writing again on my own before re-joining community spaces. Like I had to earn it somehow. And you know what helped me ACTUALLY write again? Letting go of this notion that I had to do it on my own.

So I joined a session in one of my favourite creative communities. I pushed through the fear. I opened the file for my book. I pulled up the last 2 pages and started editing. I didn’t love what I was seeing, but editing felt good. I could feel my brain straining, re-learning the art of editing and writing, and finding my flow inside this story and inside my own voice.

When the one-hour session came to an end, I felt EXHAUSTED. My body spent so much energy re-writing neural pathways and accommodating for the range of emotions I’d experienced. I went to bed early. The next day, it was tempting to sign up to a whole month of body doubling sessions to immediately start writing loads again. But I knew I’d get spooked if I did that. My writing muscles are fledgling - they need more nurturing before I ask more of myself.

So, I’ve got two sessions scheduled this next week. I hope to keep it up until I feel ready for more. I‘m going to keep writing at my own pace, always.

With love and big feelings, always,

Your coach for neurodivergent creatives, storytellers, and writers

Laurie xx

PS: if you’re a writer struggling with blocks, join the next edition of my Creative Blocks course this autumn.

My first time being published in print!