On a Break--Part II

Now I’m about two months into my writing break. My friend Karen laughed at me, because my “writing break” still involves blogging almost every day and working on freelance projects. That was one important thing I realized: fiction and poetry are not the only kind of writing that count. In my mind, I had dismissed my blog as not “real writing,” but I’ve come to appreciate it.

Before I stopped, I used to tell myself I needed to write; if I wasn’t working regularly on creative writing, I felt guilty. People say to beginning writers, Write every day. They mean that you should build a habit, and not be a slave to the idea of inspiration. Tom pointed out to me that, even while I was on a break, I was writing nearly every day in my blog or in my journal. “They don’t say you’re supposed to write in every genre every day,” he said.

Another piece of advice I’ve read is, You should be a writer only if you must write. Otherwise, find a different career. That kind of thinking scared me, because I was afraid I wasn’t a “natural” writer who was compelled to write. I was afraid that if I let my guard down, I would definitely fail. Instead, I forced myself onward.

Right after we moved, I found myself discontent with most aspects of my life. In my head, I’d complain that my house was too small, or we didn’t have enough money. The thoughts surprised me, because they weren’t in line with what I believe my values to be. A few months ago, I realized I had wanted other areas of my life to be so good that they would make up for my failure at writing. But our house could never be big enough, my child could never be smart enough, my husband could never have enough money or status to make up for what I was missing. It’s like eating ice cream to cure depression: it just won’t work.

When I stopped my creative writing, I could see other aspects of my life in new relief. Suddenly, I was able to see more clearly the love all around me more. Without publishing a novel, I have a wonderful husband and son, supportive parents, and a large network of friends. I checked in with friends and family—did they think I was a failure because I hadn’t published a book? People responded with friendly laughter and said no, they didn’t think of me that way at all.

I realized that in my mind I had been completely dismissing my freelance work because I had been seeing it solely as a means to an end, something that allowed me to afford child care so I would have time to write. But I found that I value the work in itself. I like getting assignments and being told I’ve done a good job. I enjoy writing articles about cancer research and copyediting newsletters. It’s fun to read young adult novels and write discussion guides for them. The work uses my skills and, in small ways, helps people. Just because it will never lead to publication of a novel doesn’t make it worthless.

When my parents converted to Orthodox Christianity, they started fasting from time to time. Often, the fasts don’t involve complete abstention from food; instead, people avoid certain foods at certain times. The people I’ve talked to who fast say that, in disrupting your eating, you see how much food is a part of your life. You see how much your mind bends towards particular routines out of habit. My writing break has allowed me to see my thoughts and habits more objectively and decide which to keep and which to discard.

I’ve tried to look at my definitions of success. Am I now forever doomed to be a failure because I didn’t publish a novel by age 30? Probably not. I would like to find a way to stay sane while I write and pursue publication. Part of doing so, I think, is accepting where I am now, and appreciating the good parts of my life. Going forward, I will try to be more balanced, instead of using only one criterion to determine success or failure.

I’ve also realized that I’m a creative person. When I don’t write, I take more pictures or play the piano. I tell Ben silly bedtime stories and make him puppets out of paper bags. Fiction and poetry are not the only ways in which I can express myself.

As soon as I decided to take a break from fiction and poetry (and from seeking publication), a funny thing happened: I wanted to write. I’ll just edit this story, I told myself. Then I’ll quit writing. Partway through my break, I decided to alter the rules somewhat: I would write only when I wanted to write. I was surprised that it happened at all. A friend told me something that made me sad, and I wrote her a poem. I tinkered with my novel a little bit. I went to the St. Louis Art Museum and wrote a poem about what I saw. Overall, I haven’t been what you might call productive, but I’m slowly learning to respond to my own internal cues about when I want to write. I’ve found that often I write when I’m sad, or when I’m trying to think through something that has disturbed or upset me. Despite my fears, I’ve found that sometimes I do feel like I must write.

And I’ve realized that I like writing. I’ve decided that if being a creative writer has no guarantee of success, I might as well have fun. From The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, I’ve adopted the idea of an Artist Date—a fun activity you do by yourself to recharge your creativity. (More on that in a future post.) While I’m working less, I’m playing a little more.

Technically, I’m still on a break. I’ve decided to give myself at least until Labor Day before I start getting into a routine again—if I do then. Part of me laughs, now, to think that my idea of a break involves countless projects, as well as serious thought and reflection. I’m glad, though, for the chance to step back and re-evaluate my work, and I’m hopeful that this story may have a happy ending after all.