For as long as I can remember, everyone has told me that the key to becoming a great writer is to write something every day. It’s true, and I’ve always known that; my writing is usually better quality when I’m doing it consistently. It’s also easier to come up with ideas as well.
Recently though, my writing routine has been fading into oblivion. Being hit by a spark of creativity is rare, and it’s been frustrating me for a while.
I’ve been thinking about my writing a lot the past few weeks or so. Last month, I went full time in my marketing job as I began to take on more responsibilities, an exciting step in the right direction for me. Plus, it’s nice to have a job that I actually enjoy (pretty sure that this is the first time ever?)
‘an exciting step in the right direction.’ I’m looking at these words as if they shouldn’t be there like they’re wrong, and I’m telling lies.
This is all that I’ve been doing of late - questioning everything, doubting my decisions. My number one ambition in life is to become an author and a freelance writer alongside, but how can I do that if I’m not writing?
This very post that you’re reading is the most that I’ve written, in one go, in a while. Before, I found it so easy to write, even on a train at 7.30 in the morning that’s filled with bleary-eyed commuters who have taken all the seats. However, for the past few weeks, all I’ve been doing is getting my notebook out, and that’s it. Either no words come to mind and I struggle to put pen to paper, or I force myself to jot down random things that come out as dry, bland and, frankly, crap. I hated it, the thought of a blank page or horrid sentences that meant absolutely nothing.
Every writer I know has gone through either a burnout or writer’s block. A few weeks ago, this is what I thought my problem was; It was a week where I had a lot to do, I was tired every day and had recently finished writing a piece for another site. Once I had written that that was it. I stopped writing, my reading slowed down, and I was falling asleep almost as soon as I got home. Nothing was being done. I kept telling myself that I had done quite a lot recently, and so a few days off wasn’t hurting anyone. But now I fear that this is becoming my routine, and I can’t let that happen.
My lack of reading and writing is reflected clearly through my content on not only this blog but my bookstagram as well. The last time I had a serious photo session was before I went full time, well over a month ago now. That’s pretty obvious if you look at my feed - my recent photos were either taken within five minutes featuring books that have already appeared on my account multiple times, or unused images that were taken months ago.
This weekend I have more time, so I WILL get outside and take better photos.
Even though I have more time right now, I don’t necessarily mean that I have less work to do or anything. My weekends are usually spent with my boyfriend, friends or family, as I don’t really get to see them during the week. But I also have my novel, blog, and freelance work, and that’s a lot to squeeze into a weekend. Maybe that’s why it goes so quickly.
Maybe I need to take a step back and consider different ways to do this. My freelance work has high priority, obviously, but I’m determined to make more time for my novel. This could mean neglecting my blog (not that I post regularly enough on here anyway, whoops) which makes me feel somewhat sad because I like writing on here. But, for now, it might have to become my random, sporadic-moments-of-creativity thing and my novel the essential, instead of the other way round.
I’m not saying I hate my job because I don’t. I enjoy it. It’s the changes in my routine that I’m not so fussed about. I just want to feel motivated again, have a longing to write all day, every day, even when I genuinely can’t at times. I want to get excited when I have an idea, and I want that to happen often. I always used to, and I miss it.
My goal this year was to finish my first draft, and I’m going to stick to that goal. I’m determined to be a writer again.