How to Write When You Don’t Feel Like It
Why I Don’t Feel Like Writing
Hold up. Am I saying I don’t feel like writing? You read that correctly. If you’ve perused my other posts, this is probably not revelatory. As I’ve said before, writing can feel like work. Education facilitated a grueling attitude towards both writing and reading. Each involves effort, but is much more enjoyable when not prompted by obligation. With that said, I might have a whole day or even several sequential days during which I don’t feel like writing. It could be related to physical fatigue, brain fog, stress/overwhelm, or challenging emotions, like sadness or anger. There is no shortage of obstacles.
Writing When I’m Tired or Sad
As an adult, being tired seems interwoven with existence. Reflecting now, I’d actually say emotional/mental weariness is a greater impediment to writing than physical tiredness. Maybe that’s just me. Maybe it’s the law. Maybe it’s Maybelline.
Anyway, trying to write when I’m overly exhausted is near impossible. The simplest solution is to rest first. A power nap could do the trick. But maybe I’m in a sluggish Saturday state. It’s more like a grogginess that would be exacerbated by rest. I might actually need to go for a walk, head to the gym, or do some chores before my brain will cooperate. Recognizing what kind of fatigue I’m in determines what comes next. If I’m in a low-energy emotional state (melancholy, sadness, listlessness), a workout could help. But maybe it’s yoga or a gentle walk instead of lifting weights.
Writing Through Stress and Anger
Creating mental space for writing can be tough. If my nervous system is running hot, sitting down and focusing on a manuscript is likely out of the question. Whether it’s stress, anger, or vexation, I’ve got to get myself back to my window of tolerance before writing can happen. The best thing I’ve found is to ignore all difficult emotions. Yep, pretend like they don’t exist. The goal is to convince myself I’m not actually feeling bad. Let’s take a vow to think positively.
*Magical harp sounds*
Yeah, I’m being a turd. I’m being a little self-debasing because I am definitely tempted at times to ignore my feelings to get the thing done. But, guess what? They don’t go away just because I avoid them. Those icky feelings come back, whispering and gnawing at first, then festering, boiling, and exploding later. Either way, angst is going to affect me and my writing, whether I want to see it at the time or not. Instead of my insalubrious suggestions above, it’s best to acknowledge that I’m triggered (or “activated,” if you’re riding that new lingo wave).
Addressing and regulating my emotions comes before good writing. I can dig deeper and identify the unsavory beliefs/lies to which I am subscribing that are resulting in anger, anxiety, etc. Then, with some intention, I can embrace what’s true about me, and surrender. For example, I could believe I’m not good enough. This prompts anxiety and/or performance to please others. But what’s true is I am good enough. Therefore, I can surrender outcomes and remain present. From this place, writing will come a whole lot more naturally.
Fear and Empowerment in Writing
I’m exceedingly grateful for the opportunity to write this book. It’s from a position of quiet resilience and self-confidence that I approach each writing session best. White-knuckling and forcing myself to write when I’m emotionally dysregulated is not what I’m about. I don’t want to finish this book and have little but memories of cranky hammering away at the keyboard.
Once, I read that “being published isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but writing is.” If I’m not enjoying the journey, then what’s the point? Yes, there are times when I have to muster some courage and write when I’m not feeling 100% wonderful. Yes, I may have nagging doubts and fears prowling the back of my mind. This process is imperfect and circuitous, and I love it.
For me, it’s not about running from unpleasant feelings so I can be grounded enough to write. I seek to ride the waves of fear and doubt, so that I don’t get pulled under. I may not have all the answers, the best writing techniques, or even a clue what I’m doing, but from an empowered stance, I can embody the resolve to take the next right step.
How I Start Writing When I Don’t Want To
It’s apparent that deterrents to writing come in the form of a state of being that is too high or too low. My mind and/or body are hyper- or hypo-aroused. What’s been working for me so far is moving my body and regulating my emotions to return to that sweet, sweet place under the bell curve. This works for either high or low states, physically and emotionally. I might need to lift some heavy weights to remind myself I can do difficult things and shake off that grogginess. I might need to downshift my anger by getting curious about the narrative I’m believing about myself, and go for a brisk walk to flush irritation from my veins. There’s science and stuff here (Polyvagal theory, antagonistic effects of sympathetic/parasympathetic nervous systems, amygdala “hijack” events, neurotransmitter and hormone release, etc.), but I’m going to spare you the dissertation. You’re smart and are probably familiar with lots of it anyway.
When I’m regulated in body and mind, I’m optimized to hurdle another trap: perfectionism. I can let it go and enjoy writing. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
What Happens After I Finally Begin
The aim isn’t to get rid of low or high emotions; it’s about not getting stuck in them. I could do all the emotional and physical regulating and still feel sad, irritated, fearful, or a combination platter of all three. But they become a piece of the picture instead of my whole field of view. I can get lost from time to time, but I will always have a map to get back on track.
Of course, this all sounds easier than it is. Hopefully, with repetition, it gets easier, and I decide to pull out the map sooner than the last time I was lost. When I sit down to write, I want to be as close to homeostasis as I can. This will vary as daily life varies. I don’t have control over what happens to me; I can only manage my response.
The other day, I wanted to take the day off from writing. I was too foggy, too “blah,” too weary. Instead of throwing away the whole day, I decided to hit the gym. I felt so dang good after, nothing was going to stop me from writing. I even wrote for longer than I intended, and I enjoyed it. The way forward isn’t always straight ahead. Sometimes, I’ve got to sidestep to see a smarter path.
If I can do it, you can do it.
