my semi-feral writing cat

Sometimes writing is a skittish, semi-feral cat you have to entice out of hiding with treats and other bribes. You watch it out of the corner of your eye because staring at it will send it scurrying back. Have patience. Take your time while you do other things and pretend to ignore it. Eventually, it will plop at your feet and demand attention. With claws.

I’ve been struggling to even want to write for the past couple months (thank you, fascism and over-scheduling). Whenever I did eke out some words, I hated them. I tried to write something just for fun only to discover I certainly wasn’t having any fun.

Forcing myself through it wasn’t working, so I took a breath and stepped back. With the best of intentions, I borrowed far too many books from the library, then didn’t touch them for a couple weeks. Eventually, I got fed up with endlessly scrolling, set my phone down, and picked up a book.

So far, I’ve finished 18 books this year and am on a streak of weeks with both an audiobook and physical book in progress at all times. Reading has slowly, steadily been refilling a well run dry months ago, and this morning I felt excited to write for the first time this year.

Other things have helped, too, of course. Like discovering that extra protein in my diet does more for helping me stay awake after the kids go to bed than any amount of caffeine ever did, and the noticeably longer daylight, and returning to a Discord writing community that’s given me motivation and accountability before.

It’s still too early to coax my writing all the way back. It will take more time before the desire to write returns to the constantly-in-my-face demands for attention, plus next week is February vacation, which means parenting without pause. We’ll see if that week undoes this progress, but anyone who knows me well should be unsurprised that my writing can be a cat. I can be patient.