WHEN THE WELL RUNS DRY

Three years ago, I quit my day job to write full-time. With two books published and a third in its final editing stage, I decided there would never be an ideal time to "take the leap." The planets were never going to be perfectly aligned; I would most likely not win the lottery, and I was pretty sure no big-time publisher was going to come knocking on my door with a hefty advance and a six-book deal. Nope, that was crazy thinking. But I did know I had to make a change. I had been working at a job that challenged my value system daily. I was complaining too much, and I felt depleted and powerless at the end of each day. Sure, the pay and benefits were good, but living exclusively for the weekend just didn't (and still doesn't) make sense to me. So, I took a deep breath, and with the support of my artist husband, took the proverbial plunge. (And if you're shaking your head at the thought of two bumbling artists trying to make a go of it under the same roof, well, yeah, shake away.)

Some people said I was impulsive. Others thought I was brave. For me, though, it was just necessary.

Book three was born a few months later, and in the past couple of years, I am grateful to have received some lovely accolades two excellent awards to boot. But just when I thought I might actually be able to make this whole writer thing work, things went sideways. My elderly mother began requiring more and more attention, my father-in-law had a stroke, our home suddenly needed some expensive repairs, and my husband's fledgeling artistic career was experiencing some growing pains, too. And then, on top of everything else, I forgot how to write.

Some might argue that there is no such thing as Writer's Block; that any writer who is serious enough about their craft will plough through occasional dry spells with grit and determination. Having done so, they will emerge triumphantly on the other side with that shitty first draft gripped in a determined fist. Yeah, I used to be in that camp, until I wasn't. And it wasn't very good. It came on suddenly. I would sit in front of my laptop and stare at the bright blank screen, and ... nothing happened. Then I would stare some more. More nothing. Months passed, and I began to get desperate. I pushed my current WIP aside and tried my hand at some online writing exercises, but everything I wrote seemed only fit to line the bottom of a birdcage. I dug out long-abandoned writing projects and attempted some revisions. But I had no clue what to do. Eventually, I closed my laptop and read books I had always found inspiring, and while I enjoyed them again, I finished each one with a crippling sense of inadequacy. Who was I kidding? It was over for me. I was a fraud; a phoney hack who had coasted by on luck and timing. Until now, that is, when clearly, the show was over. Still, I couldn't bear the thought that this was the end; that I had no more words to share.

I started my Instagram account mostly as a distraction – a way to play with words and images on a platform that held no expectations or deadlines. Because I had no idea what I was doing, the whole thing was relaxing and fun, and it appealed to my easily distracted nature. I didn't have to write complex novel outlines! I didn't have to do extensive research! I didn't have to log in a daily word count! Instead, I looked in my own back yard and began writing about anything and everything; ordinary people doing ordinary things. And that was the magic bullet because once I walked away from my private little pity party and got out of my head, things changed. I stopped feeling sorry for myself and began taking notice of the world around me again, and wouldn't you know it? Boom! Inspiration was everywhere!

An additional bonus found me connecting with other writers from all over the world. Soon we were sharing our own stories—the good, the bad, and the ugly—all of which have moved and inspired me. I feel richer for having made such lovely and supportive connections with so many talented people.

As I scribble down these words, I am happy to report that I am back in the game, making notes, writing scenes, plotting novels, and yes, editing those two shitty first drafts that have been collecting dust in my desk drawer for far too long. I've had to do some odd jobbing on the side, but that's okay, too. In hindsight, I've come to realize that writing full-time can be an isolating experience, and too much time away from the "real" world can be counter-productive, and sometimes downright debilitating. We humans are pack animals who thrive on connection. If we isolate ourselves for too long, (especially when the chips are down), our internal spark is likely to sputter and die.

So what have I learned from all this? I've learned that being a published author does not necessarily guarantee happiness. That success comes with certain expectations that can make you feel a little like you are working inside a pressure cooker. When I wrote my first book, I did so only because I was in love with the story. I didn't think about its future. I wasn't stressing about catalogue deadlines or editors impatiently tapping their fingers upon their desks. I was only thinking about writing the best story I could write. Yeah, I know. It's a first-world problem, but it's the truth. It was also a giant wake-up call.

Writing isn't something to race through at the speed of light to be the first one over the finish line. A good story takes as long as it takes, and if you aren't in love with the words you are putting down on the page, your readers will feel the same way. Creativity is fluid; it ebbs and flows, and occasionally, that well of inspiration you've been dipping into without a second thought can run completely dry. But it doesn't have to be the end of your world; you just need some recovery time. So, resist the urge to curl up in a fetal position in a dark room, and instead, put on your shoes, grab the dog, and go for a walk. There's a big world out there, and people and inspiration waiting around every corner. Why not permit yourself to walk away for a bit? Open your mind as well as your heart, and you'll be back in the game in no time. Trust me on this, my friend. You've got this!

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