Most writers will tell you – and it’s true, today’s column notwithstanding – that you can’t accept excuses from yourself not to write. Writing is not something you do “as inspiration strikes,” it’s a habit you must cultivate. You must keep showing up, even when you don’t really want to, if you intend on making any serious headway. If you want to actually be good at writing.
All of that is true. However, there are also times when you really do have to take a break.
This winter and spring, I was on a decent creative roll. Then in April, after dodging the bullet for three years, I got hit with Covid.
Now, reactions to Covid fall across a very wide spectrum from “didn’t notice” all the way up to “died.” Mine was about in the middle. I wasn’t in any serious danger, but basically everything I was doing besides “being sick” came to an abrupt halt.
Imagine riding a bike downhill. It’s so easy you don’t even have to pedal; you just freewheel it. Your feet aren’t touching the pedals, the wind is in your hair and you feel amazing. But then, something happens. Some arsehole throws a stick into your bike wheel and you go over the handlebars. You’re upside down on the pavement with a bike lodged in your thorax, most definitely not riding.
During those couple of weeks, my energy budget was slashed to the bone. Lying around watching Pixars from a sofa nest was in the budget. Calling 111 and chatting to the nice doctor about paracetamol and throat sprays was in the budget. Writing? Not so much. So I decided to save my energy for getting better, and officially put the writing on hold.
But the story doesn’t end when my symptoms cleared up. Because after Covid, there was good ol’ Long Covid Brain Fog. It makes sense; the brain is an energy-hungry organ, and Covid is an energy-draining illness. It does make sense that a bout of Covid would put your brain on energy-saving mode for a while, and that non-vital applications like “making shit up and then prettying it for others to enjoy” would be suspended for a while.
Seriously, when I think back to how I felt in January to March, it’s like I was flying. And I can’t remember how I got up there, but I need to figure it out, because I know a big part of the problem is that I did, in fact, stop. Whatever the reasons, I made that decision, and now nudging my brain into working properly again is up to me. I’m doing that by signing up to every writing competition I can find that’s remotely applicable to me and challenging myself to write something for each of them no matter how uninspired I feel. I think it’s working; I’ll keep you posted.
So I guess the takeaway is that, however committed a writer you are, there will come a time when you do have to take a break. But in taking that break, you need to be aware of the other side of the coin; recultivating the habit. Accept from the start that at some point, you will have to extract that bike from your midriff, peel yourself off the pavement and get riding again.
Harriet Phoenix 