What if I stopped writing?

If I stopped writing, would I still be a writer? A former writer? A not-writing-right-now-but-plan-to-write-in-the-future writer? A too-busy-with-other-stuff writer? A burned-out writer?

These aren’t just rhetorical questions.

My current state of non-writing

As of the time I’m drafting this post (late May) I haven’t written much this year other than blog posts, and I haven’t written anything other than (very occasional) blog posts in the last month. This is my longest dry spell since I started writing fiction back in 2014, and I’m afraid I’m allowing it to become more than a dry spell. I’m afraid I’m allowing it to become my new normal.

I appreciate this month’s optional question from the IWSG–If you ever did stop writing, what would you replace it with?–because it’s forcing me to think about the role of writing in my life, now and going forward.

Sometime last year, I got off track. I got some feedback on my first novel that really threw me (more about that here) and ended up setting that manuscript aside. Then I got mired in a revision process with my second novel that seemed helpful but, I’m beginning to understand, doesn’t really work for me. It bogged me down to the point that I found all kinds of excuses to not do the work. Fast forward to a few months ago, when I stopped writing (“temporarily”) because of a work project and then preparation for an interview for a promotion.

Which brings me to now. My plan for Memorial Day Weekend was to finally start writing again. 3 days off! No work stress! Rested from vacation! Let’s do this!

Narrator: She did not do this.

As I type this, it’s midday on the Sunday before Memorial Day, and I’ve done no writing other than blogging.

What if I didn’t write?

So yeah, this month’s question hits home. And as I think about it and process it in real time while writing this post, I’m realizing a couple of things:

1. I could replace writing with all kinds of other activities: professional and personal development, gardening, reading, cooking, knitting, sewing, and exercise come to mind, because I do or have done all of these to varying degrees at various times and found joy in them.
2. I really want to be a writer. I want to tell stories and have people read them and (hopefully) enjoy them. I want the recognition and external validation that comes with publishing. I want to point to my byline on a short story or (maybe someday) a novel, and say, “That’s me.”

Where do I go from here?

Back to work, that’s where. I’m going to stop this post here, go work on a writing project, and try to rebuild the writing habit I practiced so diligently for years. I’ll add a section to the end of this post just before IWSG Day with an update on how it went.

Update – June 6

And… here’s how it went:

• I wrote every day but one.
• I finished and submitted a poem for a literary contest.
• I started brainstorming a new short story for another contest.
• I finished and published a blog post.

This is the part where I’d normally say, Woo hoo! I’m baaacccckkkkkk, baby! But I’m not yet sure of this shaky new routine. Not yet trusting myself to show up every day and do the work.

So what I’ll say instead is this: It feels good to be writing again.

And while I know what I’d do if I ever stopped writing, I also know I can start again.

This post is part of the Insecure Writers Support Group monthly link-up. The co-hosts this month are: Patrcia Josephine, Diedre Knight, Olga Godim, J. Lenni Dorner, and Cathrina Constantine. Stop by their blogs and show them some comment love.

The memery

Printers can smell deadlines. So can operating systems and office software:

*Cough* Novel revision that’s been in progress for 3 years. *Cough*

And… now you know why that novel revision still isn’t done after 3 years.

Or maybe it’s because I haven’t figured out how to get my little weirdo out of trouble.

This next one explains why my first novel isn’t done either:

Why I’ve never finished a book by Victor Hugo:

And on that crappy note (heh heh) I’m outta here. If you’re a writer, may all your words come easy. If you’re not a writer, have fun doing something normal.