I love Lucky Charms. I love that, like Pop-Tarts and Dinosaur Egg Oatmeal, it is very nearly pure sugar that has somehow conned us into believing that it is a nostalgic breakfast food and not a decadent, once-in-a-blue-moon dessert. The commercials tried so hard, too: an aesthetically pleasing bowl of Lucky Charms with the perfect amount of milk, surrounded on a breakfast tray by half a grapefruit, a sliced banana, two sunny side up eggs, a few perfectly browned sausages, a glass of orange juice, a carafe of milk. Part of a healthy balanced breakfast, they said. Of course, the “healthy balanced breakfast” was everything else on the tray, and the Lucky Charms were just kind of there.
Lucky Charms might not provide much in the way of true nutritional value, but still, they make me happy, which on a dreary gray February morning is something I desperately need. They are, after all, magically delicious, and in the long winter months, I’ll take all the magic I can get.
The other day, over a bowl of the aforementioned breakfast cereal, I was browsing social media, which is never a good idea before coffee. In my meandering, I came across a carousel post of “writing advice” that detailed the sorts of procrastination in which writers frequently engage. Among them were the usual culprits: doom scrolling, checking texts, online shopping, cleaning, watching tv. But it also listed “thinking about your story instead of writing it” and “reading books on writing.” This post had thousands upon thousands of likes and omg me style comments, and it truly baffles me that so many people can fundamentally misunderstand the writing process.
The post was founded, I’m sure, on the idea that to be a writer, all you need to do is write. That any time not spent putting words on paper is time not spent writing. Both of these are myths. Popular myths, but myths nonetheless.
Pretty much anyone, at any point in their lives, can string words together into sentences and put them on paper. They might even be able to make those sentences somewhat coherent and cohesive. But that’s only a small piece of the writing pie. That’s the piece of pie taken by the person who’s just finished the entire Lucky Charms balanced breakfast and doesn’t want to be rude to the piemaker, even though they’ve already eaten the equivalent of three breakfasts.
Writing is a craft, not an action.
In order to write something worth reading, as I assume all writers aspire to do, one needs to not only have a comprehensive grasp of language and grammar, but also story structure and character development, worldbuilding and pacing, prosody and rhetoric, as well as extensive knowledge of literature, linguistics, psychology, and the specific fields of study present in the story. Among other things.
I say this not to haughtily brush off my shoulder, adopt a phony British accent, and say, “I’m a writer,” but to somewhat ostentatiously make the point that a lot more goes into the act of writing than putting words on a page. Some of it can be learned by doing, but most of it is learned through hours upon hours of research and dedicated practice.
The same could be said for any of the arts—painters do more than just paint, singers do more than just sing—there are lessons, theories, hours of practicing. There’s a knowledge base built on the braid of experience, instruction, and concentrated effort.
I don’t know when exactly someone who dabbles in an art can claim the associated title, but for the sake of argument I’d say it’s the second they become serious about the craft. When they realize just how much they don’t know and set about rectifying that.
Someone who writes becomes a writer when they realize that reading books on the craft of writing isn’t procrastination but an essential part of the process.
In fact, I’d go so far as to argue that for anyone serious about a craft, procrastination doesn’t exist.
I know, I know, we’ve all sat and doom scrolled when we should have been writing. We’ve all suddenly remembered the three loads of laundry we had to do the second we sat down to write, and hey, it’s been a while since I’ve cleaned out the fridge, maybe I should do that while the washer’s going, and have those dishes been stacked that high all week?
But I firmly believe that’s all part of the process. A healthy work life balance is essential to good, sustainable creative output. The romance of the tortured artist might seem like the ideal, but in the words of one of my favorite movies, Liberal Arts, “Don’t be a genius who dies young. Be one who dies old. Being old is cool. Grow old, and die old. It’s a better arc.” Healthy creativity is fueled by a healthy lifestyle, and if that means doing those three loads of laundry and cleaning out the fridge before you can work, that’s okay. Self-care isn’t just bubble baths and muting group chats, it’s literally taking care of yourself and your space.
And while I’d never advocate for doom scrolling, sometimes relationships or work or other projects leave you too exhausted to do anything but binge watch TikToks or (preferably) pop in a movie and zone out with a cup of tea and endless amounts of chocolate. Rest, too, is part of the process. Filling your creative well with other media is part of the process. I’ve found character inspiration in a random influencer, saved zillowgonewild posts for future worldbuilding, heard a word or turn of phrase that would fit perfectly in a poem. Inspiration is anywhere if you know how to look for it. And that, too, is part of the process.
It is, as it were, all part of a healthy balanced breakfast.
If, however, every time you sit down to write or paint or compose or whatever your art is, you find yourself “procrastinating,” maybe it’s time to rethink if this is something you actually want to dedicate your spare time to. It’s not a failure to try something and dislike it. There’s nothing wrong with taking a stab at a hobby and deciding it’s not for you. You don’t even have to give it a fair shake. It’s your time, your life, and you owe it to yourself to do something you enjoy. No shame, no regrets.
But maybe you like writing and are still distractible and uninspired. Maybe the project you’re working on is the problem and it’s time to shake it up and try something else—another genre, another medium, another story. Maybe you’re stuck because you’ve reached the limits of your knowledge and capabilities, and it’s time to hit pause on your work in progress and switch to books on craft and targeted writing exercises. Maybe your ideas feel stale and it’s time to go live a little, experience new things, hang out with new people, gather inspiration. Maybe you’re burnt out from spending too much time with one project or burnt out from the sheer effort of living and keeping up relationships, and it’s time to put aside your work for a while and read some good books, watch some good movies, listen to some good music, and let your creativity rebuild itself while you take in both books that make you happy and books that make you a better writer. (Reading exclusively one or the other is a good way to extend burnout, I’ve found.)
I say this not with any judgment, but with the kindness of experience. Each scenario has happened to me, multiple times, and every time I’ve found myself uninspired and dreading writing, it’s been a different problem with a different solution. But I always come out the other side fired up and ready to write.
I’ve been in a writing slump since around October, barely dabbling in my novel, writing a mediocre poem here and half a short story there. I was so frustrated with myself, angry that I couldn’t just sit down and churn out a thousand words a day like I had been doing, annoyed that all I wanted to do was watch The Vampire Diaries and drink unhealthy amounts of coffee. I am a writer, goshdarnit, so why can’t I write??
After a lot of soul searching, some extensive journaling, and a few kind but firm messages from friends telling me to stop being an idiot, I realized what the problem was: I was burnt out. I had just finished writing and editing a novel in the span of nine months, and life and work and relationships had stretched me thinner than normal, all working to drain the creativity I needed to productively write.
Or to put it more accurately, I realized there wasn’t actually a problem.
Creativity is cyclical, seasonal. There are high days and low days, high months and low months. There are seasons where the words come easily and everything seems amazing, and seasons where you start to wonder what the point of creating is at all because everything you touch turns to ash and mud. Whether there’s a clear trigger for a low season or not, oftentimes all there is to do is wait it out. Turn your attention to other things, take up a different kind of hobby, read as much as you can, spend time with people who make your soul happy. Live life and gather inspiration. Rest and relax. And above all, give yourself grace.
Maybe you’re a superhuman who never runs out of good ideas and always feels inspired to write, and if that’s the case, please, tell me your secrets. But for the rest of us struggling in the tumble dry cycle of creativity and trying to figure out how long before we’ll be back on top, I just want you to know, you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re not a fraud.
There’s definitely merit to grinding, to discipline, to sitting down even when you don’t want to and forcing yourself to get words on a page. I don’t want to diminish that. But there’s more merit, I think, to recognizing your own creative cycles and knowing when to grind and when to give yourself grace.
In the words of Ted Lasso, “You just listen to your gut, okay? And on your way down to your gut, check in with your heart. Between those two things, they’ll let you know what’s what.”
I’m coming out of my creative slump, finally, finding myself some days with more ideas than I know what to do with and more motivation to write than I have free time. Other days all I still want to do is binge watch tv until I fall asleep.
We all know Lucky Charms aren’t the healthiest part of the healthy balanced breakfast. We know the grapefruit offers vitamin C, the eggs offer protein, the banana potassium, the milk calcium. But Lucky Charms are still part of the breakfast, and even aside from the vitamins and minerals promised by the box, they offer joy, and contentment, which makes them more than worthwhile.
Writing is so much more than putting words on a page, and the writing life is so much more than just writing. It’s all part of the process. Compartmentalizing writing into time spent writing and time spent procrastinating is detrimental to both the process and most likely your mental health. It certainly was to mine. But every day I’m learning, and every day I’m edging closer to a healthy, balanced life.
Pay attention to your creative rhythms and cycles. Learn when to push yourself and when to rest. Accept that time not spent being obviously productive can still be time well-spent. Embrace the process.
Whether you consider yourself a writer or an artist or just a connoisseur, whether you’re in a high season or a low season right now, whether you’ve been doing this for a lifetime or just started writing yesterday, you deserve a creative life that’s healthy, balanced, and most of all, magically delicious.
Stay excellent,
Kristen
I recently read The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende, which was a phenomenal novel about family and the things that bind us together and tear us apart, and I’d highly recommend it. One of the best novels I’ve read in a while.
One of my goals this year is to focus more intentionally on photography, both as an art and because I need more photos of my family and friends. To that end, I found a nifty, family-run company that makes screenless digital cameras that look and feel like classic point-and-shoot disposable film cameras but hold hundreds of photos that can be uploaded to your computer. The company is Camp Snap, and they created the cameras initially for kids to take to camp, so they’re durable and easy to use. I just got mine last week, but so far it’s very cool.
I’m a sucker for movies about writers, and while I’ll always recommend Liberal Arts, I recently watched You Hurt My Feelings, which was a fascinating study on the sometimes conflicting mix of the creative life and the people we love. Definitely recommend.
The Lit Nerds continues to publish good short fiction that won’t kill your faith in humanity, and I’d greatly appreciate if you’d read it and spread the word!
The entire time I was writing this newsletter, I kept thinking of this Calvin and Hobbes strip and laughing to myself. I think it’s time to reread one of those books. Or all of them.
Featured image by Colin Michel on Unsplash
Earthbound, But Aspiring 
