I've thought about writing something, and I've even started a few "pieces of string"--just capturing a few rough thoughts as a pre-write for a post--but I just haven't had it in me to write anything of any substance lately.
It just hit me: I think I had some writing fatigue.
I've written so much over the past four years during my doctoral work, and especially this past nine months as I've been working on my dissertation, that maybe I just needed some time not-writing.
I love to write. Like almost everything, it's the sort of thing that you can get better at with practice. I've made a habit of writing, both personally here on the ol' blog, and professionally for my academic pursuits, and I'd like to think that I've gotten better at it over time. I usually find great joy in it, whether lots of people read and comment, or none at all. And it's helpful for me as a way of reflecting, thinking through what I'm reading, doing, and thinking. Writing is solitude for me; it's often the sort of soul-filling activity that I need.
But lately, I just haven't felt it. The pieces of string have set in tangles. I've tried to write a few things, and the words just haven't come. So I gave myself permission to take a break from it for a while.
This feels profound.
Maybe we need to allow ourselves breaks (sabbaths?) even from the things we love?
|Enjoying a walk through campus on this foggy morning...|
This morning, I'm back to writing.
And it feels good to be back at this.