When you don't feel like writing

A writing diary

This is the longest time I’ve gone without composing something in the margins of the rest of my life. This is partly because my life has become quite regimented: between this blog, weekly outpourings for ArtsHub, and the occasional commission in the education space, I’ve got a full dance card.

But that’s never stopped me before. Since I was fifteen, I’ve disciplined myself into writing with self-flagellating seriousness. I took the advice of many of my writing heroes very seriously: it’s a job, so sit your ass down and write every day. To an extent, they were right. From a particular viewpoint, I needed that discipline to normalise generating a lot of words very quickly and to think about a diverse range of plays, books and projects.

On the other hand, after twenty years of trying, I don’t feel like I’ve ever found the ‘groove’ that I imagine for other writers. I don’t know if this is a fallacy, but I imagine professional writers who sit at their desk every day and write without thinking for four hours at a time. Sure, some days are more complex than others, but the muscle memory becomes so ingrained that it doesn’t feel especially laborious or painful.