The question ‘what if I run out of ideas?’ has always been a worry of mine. Whether that relates to not having another idea for a novel after I’ve written my current one, or whether I’ll be unable to think of another non-fiction topic to write about after I’ve exhausted my current ones, or even worrying about what I’ll write next on my blog. After every post I wonder if I’ll ever think of another topic to write about. I feel the same after every essay I write on Patreon and every newsletter I send out to my subscribers.
I keep this worry in check by reminding myself that every time I write down an idea in my journal or create an essay or piece for my blog it creates breathing room in my head for another idea to emerge.
During the late summer of 2020, during the midst of a pandemic, my worries became reality. I was all out of ideas. There was absolutely nothing in my head.
I felt like giving up on my writing and business. I hated my office, hated my desk and had no motivation to sit at my laptop or open my journal.
For someone who loves writing, who loves mentoring, who loves blogging this was a horrible horrible feeling.
At first I tried to fight it. I’d force myself into my office and sit down on my chair then subsequently end up doing very little. I’d plan out my tasks, like I always do, but often found I was just transferring them from the previous week to the current week. It was such a scary feeling. Everything I’d worked towards for years felt like it had come to nothing. I questioned my choices, beat myself up with the self-loathing stick and thought I’d failed.
Fortunately I was well aware that I was suffering from anxiety and I’d dipped a little into the dark clouds of depression (I’ve previously written about this and have linked the post below). This enabled a tiny voice from inside my head to reassure me that my mind was playing tricks on me. I wasn’t rubbish, my business and writing wasn’t over and my creative ideas would come back.
So I waited it out. Despite the reassuring tiny voice I wasn’t completely convinced it would return but I was prepared to give it time. I found other things to do instead. Yes, I spent a lot of time in front of the television - cosy murders or the Kardashians were my programmes of choice - and I made no apologies to myself for that. I needed the distraction, to quieten my mind from the anxious thoughts.
I also walked the dogs daily; rain or shine. Some days I didn’t have anything to say on these dog walks at all and my husband and I just walked around the countryside in companionable silence. Other times I’d talk but my topics of conversation had nothing to do with my business or my writing. This contrasted sharply to April, May and June when I’d walk around the fields in the sunshine brimming with ideas and bouncing them off my husband.
I would spend time with my friends: chatting about our gardens, watching the dogs play together or popping out for a cheeky coffee and a big slab of chocolate traybake. I didn’t speak a lot about work - I didn’t bring it up.
I ignored my desk. My Post It Task board started to collect dust. But I didn’t care. I found myself in the kitchen whisking up a vinaigrette, baking ginger cookies and chocolate chip ones and whipped up a pavlova or two.
I was away from Instagram. I knew nothing of what other creatives were up to and therefore there was no-one to compare my lack of work against. It would have been, quite frankly, a lovely summer if it wasn’t for my anxiety.
I thought I’d gain more motivation once the children went back to school in September. That didn’t happen. So I continued to do other things.
But then, just a few weeks ago, something happened. It started with half a page of writing in my journal. That led to a blog post. Gradually over the next few weeks I’d written a couple of essays, two thirds of my ebook and a number of newsletters.
It came back slowly. The ideas didn’t just flood into my head. There were small ideas, random sentences, the occasional lightbulb. I wrote these things down in my journal not knowing if they’d make any sense reading them back. Some days I was enthusiastic. Some days I’d rather do anything but.
I didn’t rush it. I just allowed it to unfold, no pressure, no hurry.
Eventually I found myself planning out my projects and tasks that I’d like to work on this month. Unbelievably I’m really excited to work on them. And just a few nights ago, as we were walking the dogs in the rain and the darkness, I found myself, once more, bouncing ideas off my husband.
I was back.
I wanted to write this piece to reassure anyone who is struggling with their creative ideas, productivity or motivation right now. I know there are a number of you out there. It’s easy and possibly natural for you to give yourself a hard time about it. That was my instinctive response, too. But do try and let it ride out. Don’t get that mental stick to torture yourself, this year has been hard enough on our mental health as it is.
When I gave myself permission to do anything but writing at first I was lost and almost bored. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. But gradually this changed. I felt comfortable being on my own with the TV remote, I accepted last minute invitations to lunch or coffee, after a quick text to a friend I went on a long dog walk. I took care of myself and got a massage for my stiff shoulders and got my badly treated nails sorted. All the things I normally don’t allow myself to do because I should be working.
Most importantly I reminded myself regularly that this situation was just temporary. My ideas would come back. And this stopped me from acting in haste and giving up on my writing dreams.
Further reading:
If you enjoyed this blog post post you might also enjoy my essays about writing, confidence, creativity and being online on Patreon.
I also write tiny essays in my newsletter which I send out once a fortnight.
