What I learned from my summer of not writing

on getting past feeling stuck and embracing the escape

Mirage by Emily Johnson

I could blame my non-writing summer on our recent move, travel baseball, work deadlines. But those would be excuses.

The truth is that I’ve been stuck.

Stuck on the same chapter revisions. Stuck on the inner dialogue in my head that says my story isn’t good enough, that it isn’t working, that no one will want to read it. Stuck on the self-doubt that lately has been shouting above the noise, making itself heard in a way I haven’t been able to ignore. I’m working on all that (and the underlying reasons for it, which I think I understand now). But the biggest thing I learned from my non-writing summer is that I never want to not write again.

I missed writing! I love it, I’ve always loved it. But it took this unplanned break to remind me that writing gives me a sense of purpose, a place to channel all my thoughts and dreams. Without it, I feel lost and less fulfilled. Less like me.

I suppose writing could be a way of hiding from the world, an escape that is a denial of reality. But I’ve decided the ability to escape from our everyday isn’t a bad thing. I’ve come to think it is essential.

I’m writing a memoir about a time in my past, about things that happened 20+ years ago. It’s easy to get lost in those moments, to disappear into the words. It might be cold and gray outside my window, but in my memoir the sun is shining, the piazzas are full, and there are countless places to explore.

When the quiet hour I reserve in the early mornings is up, I’m snapped back to the present and to the latest headlines on the morning news. Except now I’m fortified, filled with a certain resilience that comes from having lived through tough times. My temporary escape—doing this writing thing I love—allows me to face the daily highs and lows, the ups and downs, and to see them as essential, dichotomous pieces of a full life. My writing, or anyone else’s, won’t stop wars or save the planet. But in my mind, if we all get to spend a little time doing something we love every day, the world is a better place.

I write to escape, even just for a little while. I write and remember a time and place when I could sip my morning espresso while the church bells of Santa Maria Novella rang outside my kitchen window. And then I close my computer and return—grateful—to the easy and hard moments of this one life I’ve been given.

Here’s a short memoir excerpt, because everyone needs an escape…

The sun was high overhead, and the mustard-yellow hills of Tuscany stretched out before me in all directions. Tall Cypress trees dotted my view, their thin and tapered bodies reaching elegantly toward the cloudless sky. I walked in a trance, as though I could unwind the last 36 hours if I just kept moving. The dark morning when Ben left, mere hours ago, felt like a lifetime and a day. I passed villas and old farmhouses, vineyards, chicken coops, and yards peppered with abandoned toys. A dog barking in the distance and an occasional car on the road were the only sounds on a warm and lonely afternoon. I stopped on a narrow road wide enough for only the smallest car to travel, my path abruptly swallowed by a mass of apricot-hued wildflowers.

Staring at the place where the road ended, I watched the delicate petals dance in a faint breeze. The air turned cooler as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel Ben’s arms around me, hear the melodic sound of his voice whispering in my ear, taste his lips on mine in our last bittersweet kiss. The enormous loss of his company and of my position at the center of his universe had created a void, and I feared the hollow shell of me that remained might lift with the wind and float away. I turned towards the direction I’d come and began to walk, one foot in front of the other, until I reached home.

—The Florence Project, a memoir

---

Am reading: The Matrix by Lauren Groff and The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I could really use something lighter so please send suggestions.

Am watching: The Summer I Turned Pretty, of course!

Am feeling: excited for another school year. Charlie and Izzy will be in the same school (with the same morning start time!) for the first time in four years. Both in high school. I’d better buckle up!

Writing space update: when we moved, I was sad to leave my writing space behind. It felt like a magical place where I was able to write and dream and feel inspired. I have a new home office we’re going to start fixing up soon. I started by giving my old writing desk a good polish.

I’ve had this desk for over 20 years. I bought it at an antique store when I was a postdoc living in St. Louis and I love the deep surface and shelves underneath which are perfect for books. The one drawer holds my favorite pens (Poppin, retractable in black ink), any number of notepads, post-its, and random cards and photos. Writing here already feels better with this little bit of TLC.

As for design of my new writing space, this is one inspiration photo for the room. It has main character vibes, don’t you think?

Thank you for reading Work in Progress!