One of the things I’ve learned over my years of pursuing writing is the inescapable reality of changing seasons.
Things never stay the same forever. God designed the world with shifting seasons, lunar phases, and monthly cycles, all of which follow a consistent rhythm that creates variation in our lives. The liturgical seasons of the church reflect that–we recently began the season of Lent, leading up to the celebratory Easter season, which then cycles into ordinary time before transitioning into Advent, leading up to the celebration of Christmas.
Why am I elaborating on this?
Humans need change. We need fluctuations in our schedules. I’m not saying we need constant novelty–nothing is new under the sun, as they say. But even in the sameness of spring, summer, autumn and winter, cycling by year after year, we find refreshment in the shift that comes between one season and the next. Without it, life would become stale unrelenting monotony.
I’ve found this to be no less true in the creative life. In a culture that values productivity above all else and encourages us to burn the candle at both ends to get ahead, we often feel pressured to produced, produce, produce. Run constantly. Never stop. It’s the next idea, the next manuscript, the next contract, the next award. It’s exhilarating for a time. Until we burn out.
We can’t always be going flat out. Even at the peak of a career with multiple manuscripts under contract and numerous deadlines to keep track of, successful authors know they need to shift gears regularly. Sometimes you can’t rest completely, but you can switch from drafting mode into editing mode, or from editing into outlining a different idea. But ideally you will also find seasons to rest from writing–spent time consuming the books and moves of other creators, basking in nature and good music, refilling your creative well so it doesn’t run dry.
As I elaborated in my previous post, last year was one of rampant productivity in my writing life. It was fun, but by the end of the year I had hit a place where I was having to drag myself to the keyboard and force words out with the same level of gumption I’d have experienced with trying to pull my own teeth. I’d drained my well.
This year has been a big shift–I have touched my contracted manuscript yet in 2026 and we’re already at the end of February. I’ve done little else on the writing front either. Moving to live on a farm in a different province as consumed every waking hour for the past two months. But the “break” has been good. I’ve slowly felt my creative well refilling. I’ve let myself enjoy other creative pursuits instead–art and crocheting, and even a little piano. And now finally the itch to write is back.
I’m trying to keep my expectations for this year low. I have Talentless edits to finish this spring. And I want to have book 4 outlined by the fall so I can pick away at writing the first draft in the winter. But those are my only hard and fast deadlines. There will be other years when I have to push myself creatively, to cram in words under deadline and stretch to meet goals. But this year is not that year. This year is a gap year—a year of writing rest. And that’s okay.