I haven’t written a single word (with the exception of
this blog post) since July. It's rather strange to share this situation with the NPOV readers, as writing is who I
am. It’s what I do, my joy, my love. Or it always had been. Starting in May,
the idea of writing gave me a stomach ache. Bad timing, of course, as I was in
the middle of writing and editing the third book in my Olivia Sinclair series.
Things were going well, the first draft was completed, but I was in such a
hurry to finish that first draft and meet my deadline, that I wasn’t paying
attention to my state of mind or the quality of the book. When my editor and I decided
that a massive rewrite was necessary, instead of excitedly breaking out my red
pen (I do love a good rewrite!), I hit the wall hard and started to panic. I
was completely floored at the realization that I didn’t have the capacity to do
any work at all on this book that was scheduled to be published in November. My
creative well run completely dry.
Part of me wanted to just continue to write, to push
through this difficult period in my career. After all, I am a professional, right? Nope. Burnout is not a work ethic issue. My problem went deeper. Pushing through the difficulty wasn’t going to help me with my current
situation.
I’ve never been a quitter, but stepping away from
writing seemed the only thing to do. I needed a break, needed to put my feet on
the floor in the morning without a deadline hanging over my head. Luckily, my
publisher was able to grant me an extension. So with my looming deadline dealt
with, I purposefully, and with more than a bit of difficulty, stopped all
things related to writing. I went on long walks, cooked all the recipes I
wanted to try, and tackled a long list of cleaning and sorting, all the while
wondering when my well would be full.
Even though I wasn’t working, per se, I was jotting
down notes on Post-Its, thinking of plots and stories, dreaming up heroes and
those who would take them down. As expected, I quickly came to miss my time at
the keyboard. But I also know that it’s not time to start writing yet. Although I'm not in a perpetual state of panic, my creative well is still dry. Turns out this break from
the job I love is turning into a patience lesson.
My writing career ran hot and fast for the past few years
in a wonderful whirlwind of working with fabulous editors and connecting with
readers who like what I write. The time proved blissful and satisfying, but utterly
exhausting. I’m pooped. With a bit of luck, this break from my writing life
will give me a deeper knowledge of my craft, and enrich my future prose with a greater understanding of who I am as a writer. While audio books (and the
occasional Netflix binge) has provided me ample comfort during the time of
creative crisis, getting back to my craft is the light that awaits at the end
of this tunnel. I’ll get there. With any luck, I’ll be a better writer for it.
How about you? Have you ever suffered from professional/creative
burnout? How did you work your way through? And, most importantly, when did you know your creative well was full? (Any advice appreciated!!!)
