Writing and Rest

I've been meditating recently on the writing process.  I struggle with habit, in both the spiritual and creative life, but I'm starting to be reconciled to the notion that, perhaps, this is just how I write.  I've no shortage of ideas, but my pattern is this: I will work tirelessly on a project for six weeks to two months and then run out of steam.  I may then lay fallow for several months before the sadness of not writing catches up to me.  Then I am swept up again by inspiration which will not leave me alone.  

Part of letting my charism of writing work in partnership with me rather than struggling with it, is allowing it to be what it is.  I am comforted recollecting that Tolkien took decades to write his magnum opus, often going for years without progress, putting aside the work close to his heart to tend to his family and community.

A friend pointed out to me that productivity is deceptive.  Just because nothing visible is being produced does not mean that the resting is wasted.  The opposite is true.  The field lies fallow, but down deep, the earth is working and preparing unseen for the growing time.

I don't want writing to be an adversary to my contentedness.  I don't want to feel unproductive and failing during the times I am not actively writing.  My writing life goes through seasons, and wintering is a part of that.  I remind myself that everything that is, was loved into being.

+JMJ+

Photo by Greg Keelen on Unsplash