WORK, REST, AND PLAY

Have you ever avoided writing? I don’t mean the procrastination that we are all so good at.  Or the decision that’s forced on us, when other priorities need to take precedence. But what about choosing to step away from writing for a period?

Just before Holy Week, I came to the end of an intense semester, disrupted by lecturers’ strikes and with short deadlines for module submissions. I’ve written my first play, a dissertation proposal, some new poems, and a critical reflection, all due in at the end of March.

Apart from a few days over Christmas, I’ve been writing non-stop for six months. No wonder I felt exhausted. But marks aren’t expected until the end of April so there’s time for a much needed breather before dissertation proper starts.

I gave myself a fortnight. I lasted ten days.

The first week was easy. We visited our sons. A change of scenery. Catching up with old friends. Walking and gardening. Easter traditions. Away from academic pressures, I even read some books without analysing their strengths and weaknesses.

When I read The Artist’s Way, one creative task was a week’s fast from reading. How my boys laughed at that idea for me. These last ten days have felt like a fast from writing.

It has been good to stop for a while. My brain feels like it’s been washed waterfall clean. And spiritually it’s been good to stop. To remember that, much as I feel most me when I write, I’m still me without it. That I am loved for who I am and don’t have to earn it by what I do or how well I do it.

Now to get back on board. Ease myself in with some blog posts and a promised anthology piece.

So why has it been so hard to get going again today? I have never attacked household chores with such discipline (ask my husband!) If it wasn’t pouring down, I’d be gardening. I’ve called at my neighbour’s. I’ve watched TV that doesn’t interest me. I’ve looked up how to get a tax rebate and a pension quote. And spent an inordinate amount of time working out if the new visitor to our bird feeder is rook, raven, or carrion crow (it’s a rook).

Truly I am a contrary being. Or a typical writer. How does St Paul put it?

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do.” (Romans 7.15a)

Ten days off has left me literarily unfit. It has taken almost a whole working day for me to finally get around to starting this blog post. And it’s as flabby and unfocused as, well, as my need to get back to the gym. But it’s a start. Tomorrow I shall edit, so what you read is more fit for purpose.

As Christians we know the importance of sabbath, the example God set us from the very beginning. Do we need sabbaths from writing? And if so, what’s the best way to do it? How do we avoid Goldilocks’s dilemma, making sure it’s not too long or too short, but just right? How frequent does it need to be? Or is there a way of writing during resting that isn’t work?

I’m sure there isn’t one answer for everyone. But the longer I write the more I realise what a novice I am. I’d love to hear your wisdom and experience in the Comments.

Liz Manning lives in Cornwall and is doing a Creative Writing MA at Plymouth University, where she’s exploring fiction, poetry, and dramatic writing possibilities. She’s about to start her dissertation, a hybrid and visual poetry collection called “These Three Remain”, which explores how faith, hope and love sustained her through difficult times.

She blogs regularly at https://thestufflifeismadeofblog.wordpress.com/