Reconnecting to the spirit of play is easier than you think

The habits and mindsets that helped me fall back in love with my work

If you've been here a minute, you know I've been writing every day (or at least every weekday) for over a decade, and spent years coaching other writers. That means I've seen and experienced the highs and lows of writing life time and again: And seen the many ways we can develop a less-than-great relationship to writing. Thanks to toxic jobs, tight deadlines, imposter syndrome, or a million other reasons, the joy of writing, the whole reason we started writing in the first place, falls to the wayside.

For past me, misguided expectations around success, productivity (and namely, around never being productive enough), and a strong adherence to grind culture all contributed to the thing I love becoming a chore. I took messages that society created around what work is "supposed" to look like, and essentially adopted someone else's narratives as my own.

Even writing fun things, or talking about my writing with friends felt like a slog: I was stuck in the belief that my writing had to "feel like work" in order to count as real, meaningful work.

By cramming my writing in a box, I was devaluing the very things that make my writing valuable and pleasurable to my readers: Namely, the passion and joy I infuse into it when I'm in my flow and doing what I love.

In my writing practice, this shift from joy to chore happened gradually: I never really stopped loving writing, but instead I subconsciously started centering more admin-y, anxiety-inducing tasks in an effort to convince myself that the work was hard and thus was real and worth doing.

And I started to impose more restrictions on my writing itself (more deadlines for projects that didn't need them, taking on less fulfilling writing contracts, etc.) that pulled me further and further away from the writing I feel called to do.

Coming back to my writing voice not only meant giving myself space and permission to write how and what I wanted, but it also meant playing with different forms, and exploring different themes, which allowed my creative mind to stretch itself into unfamiliar territory and see if it felt at home.

I liken it to trying on an outfit in a store that's different from anything you already own, and rather than rejecting it outright, pausing to see if it looks good and feels good.

This is how I learned, for example, that food writing is a central aspect of my creative self, even after a years-long hiatus during my PhD.

It's also how I learned that I thrive when exploring a chosen topic through the intersection of multiple disciplines or perspectives, rather than traveling down one isolated path.

I also learned some things my writing is not: I'm not a comedy writer, for example, though I'd like to thing my writing can sometimes be funny. I'm not going to write about subjects I know very little about (like parenting) or that don't at least interest me tangentially (I get a weird number of PR requests to test out and write about luxury dog care items, for some reason, and I've never yet accepted a single one).

I've also learned how I work best: that I'm most in my flow in the mornings and daytime, that I need ritual and meditation and movement to surround my creative practice (and that these help keep anxiety and comparison at bay), and that I can tend to overfill my days if I'm not intentional about planning.

Being honest with myself about my work means I can actually do it in a way that really works for me. Before I put pen to page, I had to create space (mentally, physically, and in my schedule!) to allow my own creative voice to flow.

That happened in a few ways, including:

·      Building in a space in my calendar for unstructured, creative writing: Even just 5-10 minutes at the start of the day can yield a wealth of words and insights, even just once a week.

·      Setting boundaries around that time: No phones, no meetings, just me and a journal or a laptop. My writing time is a sacred commitment to myself and to my belief that my words are worth hearing: And that time deserves the same respect as any other commitment in my calendar.

·      And most importantly, making my writing time pleasurable and fun: I have a cozy blanket on my chair and nice candles. I buy myself flowers to put in my writing space, and I just generally do everything I can to create an environment I want to be in. Even if you don't have a dedicated writing space with candles and flowers, you'd be amazed just how transformative it can be just to take the time to write, wherever you can, in a space you make as enjoyable as possible.

Now, because the fun stuff comes first, the rest of my work and writing life feels more fun or, for the not fun stuff, at least easier to manage because I'm actually resourced and largely focusing on the good in my world. And because I consistently try to expand my writing practice, I feel like I'm always growing as a writer and watching with awe as that practice informs and nourishes my other creative practices, too.

Because my joyful, creative work is centered in my life, it allows me to let joy and creativity in more generally. I've never felt more tapped into my creative current, and it's a pleasure I wish for everyone to experience, whatever your creative path(s) might be.

I'd love to hear: What's one new habit you've adopted that has radically transformed your relationship to your writing for the better?

Transformation and play in your writing life

If you want to build a playful, powerful practice that centers fun and discovery as much as productivity and progress, join me for my second round of Writing Playground: Each Saturday in August we come together to write around fun, playful prompts, then learn practical, nuts-and-bolts skills to build a consistent writing practice you can't wait to sit down to.

There's no writing critique (you're welcome to share drafts in the space, but not expected to), no judgment or pressure: Just a place to play and explore, while you learn and gently shift your habits.

This is the space for you if you want a gentle, fun reentry into the playful energy of your writing, or just to expand your practice in new directions. Or, if you've tried to build new writing habits before and have found that you tend to resist doing it unless it feels really fun (if you want a space to build your whole writing practice from start to finish, that's Bloom, which also still has a few spots left!)

Writing Playground sold out last time, and I'm sure it will again, so if this sounds appealing to you, I encourage you to get in while spaces are still available.

Writing playground is $330 this week only (its full price is $1100), and you can take an extra 60% off that with the code PLAYGROUND.

You get live sessions and recordings, plus a Slack channel, free gifts just for showing up every week, and a resource library with lifetime access (so you don't have to rush through everything in a month).

Come join me for a fun, playful way to round out your writing summer!