Find out whether you should quit writing or not

That one time I was thinking of going to a creative sabbatical. I had crazy workload and couldn’t focus on writing. I was swamped, tired and for hundredth time questioning the purpose of my writing endeavors.

Does anyone even read? Does anyone even care? And more importantly, do I even care?

I often feel that there is a lot of potential in my writing. It often feels good. It is fun. Blank page yields infinite possibilities. It makes me think and wonder and look closer and learn more about myself. And sometimes, yes, other people like it.

But in those last few months, writing became a drag. Tedious. Just another thing on my packed to-do list. I had to skip several sessions. Then a few entire weeks. Then I was questioning everything I ever wrote. I was thinking to give up. Or make a break. Call it sabbatical. (Read more about my unsuccessful sabbatical HERE.)

Basically , I was torturing myself for days. “Write.” “Don’t write.” “You don’t have time.” “Of course you have time.” “You have time but you don’t have the energy.” “Your writing used to be so good.” “Your writing sucks.” “People love it.” “Nobody gives a shit.” “Stop.” “Go.” “Do something else.” “It’s good.” “It sucks,”

Days and days passed with my inner voices fighting.

And then one day, I told myself: “You are done. If you’re gonna obsess and make drama, then you shouldn’t be doing it. You will stop writing. Problem solved.”

(I did that like a tired housewife, sick of watching her children fighting about the same toy, saying: “OK, if you cannot play nicely, no one’s gonna play. I’ll dump this toy.”)

Brief moment of silence in my head.

(Two kids in shock.)

And then something magical happened.

Deep, dark sadness overwhelmed me. My shoulders sank. I felt heaviness in my entire body. I closed my eyes. I could hardly breathe.

Horrible feeling.

Which made me realize that, hey, maybe that was the answer I was looking for. Something deep inside of me knew it the entire time. My entire body was protesting against the idea of not writing at all.

That’s how I decided I was not going to a sabbatical. I turned back to writing. Slowly and in small increments.

I trusted my inner voice. Let’s see what will happen next.

All of this reminded me of Liz Gilbert’s story from “Big Magic,” about a disappointed middle-aged man who came to see Richard Ford’s talk. The man asked the writer to give him the advice about how to handle the pain caused by all the rejections. The poor man was writing stories and novels for decades and never had anything published. He was paralyzed with all the misfortune and tired of hearing that he has to persevere.

Mr. Ford was touched by the man’s story. Despite the expectation of the audience, he advised the man to quit. The life was too short not to be enjoyed, and writing brought him only pain. Mr Ford told him to try to do other things, relax and forget about writing.

“However, if you happen to discover, after a few years away from writing, that you have found nothing that takes its place in your life- nothing that fascinates or moves you, or inspires you to the same degree that writing once did…well, then, sir, I’m afraid you will have no choice but to persevere.”

Yes!

The main question is: do you love it? Do you relish it? Does it make you feel alive? Does it make you wonder? If so, please continue.

If you are doing it because it’s trendy, cool, Instagramable, has a potential to go viral, if you’re doing it for likes and followers, please think twice.

The world doesn’t need another selfie from the gym. The world needs people that feel alive and curious.

Donald Miller said that we need to watch somebody love something before we can love it ourselves. I also think we need to watch somebody creating and being alive, to ignite our own sense of liveliness and our own creativity.

Show us what you’ve got. Do what makes you feel alive and let us watch and learn.

XXX

Miss Strangelove