Dear Writer,
Am I the only one who struggles with time off?
I’ve been experiencing more time off in the last few months than I have had since I was a child. I started working regularly at 15, so I mean that absolutely literally; since I was a child. Whether it was working a 9-5 or writing books while at home with the kids, I have always been working on something both to bring in money and feed my dopamine habit1. But before I got married in October, I put the podcasts on hiatus and didn’t start recording again until a couple of weeks ago. And I didn’t really have anything else I had to do, you know the way you have to do things for money. I had time to think and reflect and figure out my next steps…
… and it was miserable.
Don’t get me wrong; that time and space and thought and inner examination brought me to my Year of Writing Magically workshop, which is the absolute most perfect thing for me (listen to me talk about the workshop and the beauty of half-passing things in this interview with Garrett Collins of Percolated Media). When I say this time was essential, I mean it was essential.
I just hated every minute of it.
Space is limited for my Year of Writing Magically workshop, and applications are flying in; be sure to apply today!
I was raised by a messed up family in a messed up society, and my productivity and willingness to work long and hard for next to nothing has been sometimes the only thing that gave me a sense of my own value. I’ve been unpacking all that for a while now, but having the ability, for the first time in 35 years, to take a couple of months to recover from the exhaustion brought on by the way I work was rough. It was like a weird mix of existential dread and occupational ennui and when I say I could not focus on anything, I mean… anything. I was all over the place, feeling this internal itch to do, to accomplish, to get that hit of dopamine that comes from doing anything. But I made the decision; I am taking this opportunity to learn how it feels to be okay with not being so goddamn productive all the time.
Now there are conversations to be had about how capitalism uses us up like batteries—the Matrix is real, and it is capitalism—but honestly, right now, I’m just grateful that I pushed through all of that discomfort and came out rested and ready to rumble on the other end. I woke up one day with the answer; a workshop that combines my 2023 goals of writing again and teaching again, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels right, like I get to instead of I have to.
I don’t remember where I first heard John Green use the phrase, “Don’t just do something. Stand there.” I think it was in The Anthropocene Reviewed (I give it five stars, grab it now if you can, or at least listen to the podcast that inspired the book) but when I first heard him say it, in the context of being a hospital chaplain who had to learn to just be with people during the worst moments of their lives, the phrase stopped me dead.
Don’t just do something.
Stand there.
Writer, I don’t mind telling you… my life has been about doing. The way I deal with anxiety is through action, and I have had a lot of fucking anxiety throughout the years. But as I persevered through the absolute aimlessness of the last couple of months, forcing myself to soak in the discomfort that it brought on, I learned that activity and productivity taken to an extreme are truly toxic. For the first time in my life, I learned how to just do nothing.
And because of that, I was able to, when the time was right, do the thing that I need to do when I needed to do it. It required something that I have in very short supply—patience—but I dug deep and did nothing, and then I woke up with the concept for the YOWM workshop and everything about this endeavor harmonizes with my soul.
Here’s my TikTok about it:
Now, I’m gonna be totally honest with you; I wasn’t exactly doing nothing during this entire time. Don’t let my monk-like enthusiasm for this process make it sound like I did not fall off the wagon. While I wasn’t actively working on anything that gave me a dopamine hit of accomplishment, or brought in any money, I was working on the new book; doing some discovery, playing with ideas, staring out windows. That's the book I’ll be writing during the workshop, alongside my students as I guide them through the process by doing it live with them in community. And after all that ennui, to feel this excited and like I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on is truly amazing.
I know everyone doesn’t have the luxury to take two months to do nothing; trust me, it took me 35 years before I had it. But where in your life might you find the space to do nothing until it makes you uncomfortable? What do you think might happen if you did?
Everything,
L
I experience a dopamine rush from accomplishing something. Anything, really. There is nothing in the world I love more than a checklist. I will create a checklist of things I’ve already done just so I can check it off.
I am so glad you took some much needed and well-deserved time for yourself. But I’m sorry it was so hard. I know what you mean. I get really depressed when a big project like NaNo ends and I suddenly have more time.