Floating Free

The Necessity and Terror of Creative Breaks

It’s been two months since Outside Women’s birthday and I’m finally starting to get my brain back. I’m still experiencing whiplash from jolting back and forth between joy and anxiety all day, and also digging my way out of an unending to-do list (if I know you, I probably owe you an email, I’m sorry).

But earlier this week, I pulled out an essay I was working on many months ago, dusted it off, and was finally able to focus. The experience centered and buoyed me like nothing else could.

I’ve wanted so much to be immersed in my creative process again. But for the past few months, that brain-space hasn’t been available. When I had spare time between book promotion tasks, I sought rest. I needed sleep more than I needed to write.

Creative breaks are necessary for so many reasons but really scary, too. In my experience, stepping away from creating leaves too much room for unwelcome thoughts to rush in: envy and comparison to other artists, anxiety about the quality of my work, fear that I’ll never write again.

Breaks give me the sensation of floating free, because I’m too tired or preoccupied to use my muscles and move through the water. Floating free sounds like it could be delightful and relaxing and idyllic. And sometimes, when I’ve chosen to take a break from writing, it can be. But other times (like now), when I can’t see any signs of land and the waters around me are completely unknown, it’s terrifying. My body is keenly aware of the unseen depths below. What’s lurking under there? Perhaps a creature that will grip my ankle and drag me down.

How do you find your way back to your creative practice after a break? Whether the break was chosen or forced on me, the path back to myself has never been straightforward, and it’s never been the same.

There’s one constant that I’ve started to recognize over the years, though. When glimmers of ideas appear at unexpected moments, or I spot connections between ordinary objects, that’s when I know the end of this break is in sight. This past weekend, I went to see the new Mission Impossible movie, and one of the trailers sparked an essay idea. I was taken aback; I don’t usually come upon essay ideas while watching Tom Cruise dangle from a helicopter. But I surreptitiously took out my phone in the dark theater and typed out a couple lines in my notes app so I wouldn’t forget.

From past experience, this is the first sign that I’m almost ready to come back to the page. There’s a thrill to that feeling — like I’ve caught hold of something delicate flitting past — and I’m hungry for more.

But I can’t hold on too tight. I have to play it cool. Creativity and I are still finding each other again and it’s skittish. If I’m too clingy in my approach, I might scare it off. So I’m catching and writing down ideas when they’re within reach. I’m opening up files on my hard drive that I haven’t looked at in months. I’m reading through them and making notes with a deliberately casual attitude. I’m hopeful but holding back the eagerness. I’m trying to trust that the page and I will be together again soon.

What’s your process? How do you handle creative breaks?

---

Outside Women updates and requests!

New mentions, events, and some requests to help me get the word out:

• More events coming this summer! I’m coming to the Boston area on June 25th, and teaching two workshops in New York City this summer. I’ll keep my website updated with more details.

• I loved this wide-ranging conversation with my friend (and fellow Kentucky press author) Serkan Gorkemli for World Literature Today. We talked about reclaiming misogynist folk tales, novel structure, queer consciousness, and so much more.

• Thanks to multi-talented Benedict Nguyễn for featuring Outside Women in the “group fitness” category for her recent sporty reading list for the Language Arts substack. My inner bookworm still can’t believe I’m connected to any kind of athletic content…

• This summer, my goals are to get Outside Women in more libraries and bookstores, and get it assigned by professors and teachers.

  • If you’re an NYC resident, help me out by requesting that NYPL and Queens Public Library get Outside Women for their shelves! If you have a Brooklyn Public Library card, please place the hardcover and e-book editions on hold — more hold requests alert librarians to the title.

  • If you live anywhere in North America, please ask your local public library to order a copy! You can speak to your librarian or submit a request through your library website.

  • If you’re a professor or teacher (or know one) and feel that Outside Women would be a good fit for your classroom, please send me a message! I’d love to chat further about a class visit.

Thank you! Some peaceful floating and swimming, as reward for reading all the way through: