Writer, You Will Always Write

on not giving up the spirit of the work

It’s hilarious, really, that I’d think about it this way. But that’s what summer often does—it’s a sort of “down time” especially because the last two times my books came out, they released in the spring.

After a release, the season that follows is difficult. It’s not quite burnout, but something akin to it; we still love the books we wrote, but we are tired of talking about it, thinking about it, parading ourselves across social media trying to get book sales.

So this summer, I actually thought to myself I’ll just take a little break from writing. In essence, I was saying I don’t need to be a writer right now, I’ll be a gardener, mother, partner, dog caretaker, home-tender instead.

But this is the secret, the irony, the hilarious and brutal reality: writer, you will always write.

My work ends up being a lot of things—meetings, speaking events, an online reputation—but really, the best part, the most beautiful part, the part I still love, is the writing.

So, even as I declare that this summer I will stop being a writer, my actual self snaps back with a memory, a story, an urge to grab a journal or the laptop and write away for as long as possible.

Our family just finished a week-long climbing trip in Kentucky, and while I barely used my laptop the entire trip, when I did, it was to write.

I wanted to write as we drove across lush green fields and the rising and falling, green-speckled Appalachian Mountains.

I wanted to write as we walked back to the car after climbing for five hours.

I wanted to write as the kids went to bed and my thoughts kept going.

I wanted to write in the early morning hours as the Kentucky sun rose.

I wanted to write the whole time, strings of words pulling threads in the deepest parts of my mind.

Here’s the thing about being a writer: we get to choose who the writing is for.

When we give ourselves the this-or-that option of writing or not writing, being on or off, we deprive ourselves of the beautiful in-between.

I am a writer, I cannot escape it.

So, I write.

Sometimes I write for me.

Sometimes I write for my people.

Sometimes I write for future books.

Sometimes I write and have no idea who it’s for.

But those beautiful liminal spaces are where I find the magic of words, and they never fail me.

So, a little word from me to you?

Don’t shut yourself off this summer.

Lean into your work and your purpose and your magic.

Lean into the liminal spaces and see what you find there.

I can’t wait to see what happens when you do.