Writers are hard workers.
We don’t have much choice if we want to succeed. We write and rewrite and edit and submit our work with no help from anyone else, and often see little reward for our efforts. Even so, we continue to work hard and make each piece the best it can be. And since there’s no end-of-workday alarm function on Microsoft Word, it’s up to you to decide when to start and stop, what to do each day and how much to attempt. It’s easy to overestimate this.
After finishing my first year of a creative writing degree I was positively buzzing with motivation. I had months of time on my side and I was determined to make the most of it. In June and July I sent out six short stories, started a vlog and completed the first edit of my novel. I was often bored or depressed in the evenings – that was when sitting at the laptop became less productive after a day’s work – but that was only to be expected, wasn’t it? Even if I was tired I could still write character profiles, update my spreadsheets, work on my website, check Twitter…
Last week, I went on holiday to Wales with my family. I saw it as a good opportunity to “detox” from the internet and the seemingly endless pile of submissions I’d been working on. It would be time to spend with my family and restore my love of writing. Short story submissions had caused me to neglect my novels: a fantasy YA that had lost some of its shine during merciless editing and a comic fantasy just starting to find its feet. Sure enough, after lots of reflection on long car journeys and scribbling in my notebook on rocky beaches, old projects took on new life and I reconnected with my characters like old friends.
But as the week went on I learned perhaps one of the most important lessons I’ve had as a writer, and it’s one that they won’t teach you in a degree: writers need rest too.
It sounds obvious, but have you ever felt guilty for not writing enough, even when you’ve well overreached a daily word goal? Writers often put their work before their health: scribbling late into the night when inspiration strikes, risking carpel tunnel to finish that chapter before the deadline, braving sword-fighting classes just so they can write that battle scene properly (ahem).
But there comes a point when drive becomes obsession. I was sitting at my laptop at perhaps ten at night, feeling guilty for clicking on YouTube and telling myself I’d return to writing as soon as I’d watched one more video. Never mind that I’d already entered a story into a competition that morning or that I’d sat at the dining table for nearly seven hours. It was never enough. It’s like I was addicted to the concept of productivity, that I could write just a little bit more instead of taking some time off. It had become difficult to distinguish between wanting to write and feeling guilty for not writing. I hated myself for having no self-restraint to work– when I’d just done a whole day of writing. It was scary to realise just how destructive my thought processes had become.
Needless to say, since I got home and unpacked I’ve made some changes to my routine: if I’m not at the dining room table, or if it’s after six o’clock, I’m finished for the day. Only if I have a genuine, burning need to write a scene will I open up Microsoft Word otherwise, and even then I’ll probably only write plot points. At least until I learn to tell the difference between inspiration and self-punishment. I feel happier already: my evenings are free to do what I want, whether it’s vegetating on the internet, having a Doctor Who marathon or killing zombies on the PlayStation, and it’s always completely separate from my writing life. It’s taken a week away for me to realise what I was missing, and I’m so glad that I did. Looking back, it’s a wonder I didn’t have some kind of meltdown.
So a note to all writers, whether you’re just starting out or you’ve been at this game longer than I have: it’s important to have a good work habit, but know when to stop for the day and have a proper rest when you do. Writers are creatures of many dimensions: we can be space warriors and werewolves and Victorian detectives, but at heart we’re still as mortal as anyone else. So look after yourself, know your limits, and take breaks!