Returning to My Passion After Years of Avoidance
Why forcing creativity never works
The Moment of Truth
I get it, finally, why I can’t make any progress on my current book project? I’m not invested in it, I’m not interested in it, and I never think about it.
A bit of background, at the risk of repeating myself for those who have read many of my previous posts. I only ever shared my thoughts and motivations, or lack thereof, piecemeal. But now is the time to come clean and stop fooling myself.
Way back at the beginning of 2017, I had an idea for a story and started to put pen to paper, as it were, from early February and for the next 10 or so weeks. I wrote almost every day. In that short period, I’d written nearly 30 thousand words, and virtually the entire storyline was clear to me; it still is. I loved the story and the characters; they became my constant companions. What began as a simple story idea evolved into a passion. I was having fun and I loved it.
This image has nothing at all to do with this week’s newsletter. But I like it, and it is seasonal, don’t you think? Thanks to my sister, taken while she was visiting Findhorn and Burghead on the Moray Firth.
When Everything Changed
That’s when things started to go wrong, not with my writing, but with my health. It started simply enough; my left hand went completely numb for a while. I shook it, massaged it, and feeling slowly returned. I thought nothing of it. I guess I thought that I had been resting my forearm against the edge of the desk, something like that anyway. Then it happened again, and over the next month, it worsened. I went to my doctor.
Coincidentally, in October/November the previous year, I had a trapped nerve in my left shoulder, both my doctor and I thought this must be related. Wrong. Before I knew it, my entire left arm became numb and without feeling, more and more often. Then my left leg, from the groin right down to my toes. The worst was yet to come.
One bright, sunny spring Saturday morning, I went blind in my right eye, and the right side of my face had no feeling. After 10 to 15 minutes, my sight and feeling returned. It was scary, what, I asked myself, is going on? I called my doctor again first thing Monday morning and made an appointment.
Then, just as I was joining the freeway on my way to work, it happened again, no messing about this time. As soon as I could, I went for tests. Within a week, I was being operated on to remove a significant blockage from the right Carotid artery. It took the best part of a year to recover almost entirely, but I was never the same.
All these episodes I had been experiencing were mini-strokes; I was fortunate to be alive.
The Long Road Back to Writing
Not surprisingly, while all of this health drama was happening, writing was the last thing on my mind. The aftermath was almost as devastating, at least for my writing. I had lost something, the spark that had allowed me to easily write the story, the dialogue, and the characters. It wasn’t until the beginning of 2023 that I started to feel my way back into the writer’s mindset by starting this newsletter.
After a year, I felt confident enough to start writing fiction again, but what to write? I was in love with the story I began in 2017, and in the intervening years, I’d learned a lot about the fiction writing process. Things I didn’t even know back then, but could easily screw up any story. I decided that I needed to spend some time learning more about the craft before I would allow myself to pick up again what had been (and still is) my passion project.
The idea was to write another story entirely, a simple concept, but not one that I was particularly invested in. That way, I could learn the craft without worrying too much about whether the project would succeed or fail. Sounded like a good plan at the time, but it was doomed to fail from the get-go.
Coming Full Circle
So, to repeat, why can’t I make any progress on my current book project? I’m not invested in it, I’m not interested in it, and I never think about it. But I do think about that story from 2017 constantly. Even now, more than eight years later, I know the characters’ names and their backstories. Yes, it has flaws, some serious ones too, but I know this story, it is part of me, and it needs to be exorcised from my mind. The only way I know how to do that is to finish it.
Some time ago, I wrote about Heinlein’s Rules, especially the one where a writer should finish what they started. It was an email reply from Joanna Penn after I’d asked for advice about this problem, not being happy trying to bash out the story I started as a learning process, that brought these rules to my attention.
I tried, I really did. But after it all, after the many weeks and months of avoiding the truth, I’ve recognized that I have no intention, at least for now, of pushing myself to complete what, for me, is something that I don’t want to do. Instead, I’m returning to my passion, and I’m so excited about it.
As I write this paragraph, I’m having a Father’s Day lunch with the family. Now, while the food is wonderful, and as much as I love to spend time with them, I want it to end, so that I can get back to my laptop. I do feel guilty about wanting to get home, but not much.
The Path Forward
The plan of attack is to first read through what I have already written. When I wrote those 30,000 words, I had no outline or plan in place. I wrote each chapter and scene as it came to me. I’ve the first drafts of scenes from all three acts. So, I suppose, the best plan is to continue where I left off.
Side note: While the food I had was great. The others were not happy at all. I suppose it’s my upbringing, but I always feel too embarrassed to complain. I think, perhaps, it’s a British thing. Fortunately, my Dutch family has no such qualms; now we get the desserts for free. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Final Thoughts
Unlike the last few weeks, I knew what I was going to write about this week, days in advance.
The decision to abandon, at least for now, has been slowly bubbling to the surface for quite some time. I couldn’t say precisely when the choice was made, but it was inevitable. At my age, I refuse to waste any more time on something that doesn’t fulfill my creative needs.
Another big difference this week is that I didn’t dictate and ask Claude to tidy up the raw transcript. This week’s newsletter was initially written on the laptop, up to the first 800 words, and then mostly completed on my phone. Thanks to the brilliant Ulysses app. It really is the perfect app for short-form writing, for me.