Category: Journal · Tags: writing process, creative rhythm, author life
I think my brain quietly staged a coup.
For the past few months I’ve been writing and posting at a pace that probably looked impressive from the outside. Stories, drafts, blog posts, outlines, edits, more outlines. The usual cycle where you convince yourself you’ll just finish one more thing before stepping away from the keyboard.
Eventually the brain pushes back.
Not in a dramatic burnout way. Nothing caught fire. No existential crisis. It just drifted. One day I realized I was spending more time doing smaller, quieter things instead. Playing Minecraft for an hour. Sitting with the dog. Actually watching something with my husband instead of half-listening while thinking about the next paragraph I should be writing.
And honestly, it’s been nice.
I don’t want to frame this as an ADHD excuse because that isn’t really what’s happening. My brain just decided to point its curiosity somewhere else for a bit. I’ve learned that forcing it back into the chair usually makes the writing worse anyway.
That doesn’t mean the work stopped.
Book two of The EchoFyre Chronicles still needs editing. I have several short stories outlined that are waiting their turn. Two possible novellas are quietly forming in the background. A couple of larger series ideas are circling the drain of my notebook like they’re deciding whether they want to exist yet.
And of course it’s tax season, which means my little LLC is sitting in the corner tapping its foot and reminding me that paperwork is also a form of storytelling, just with fewer dragons and significantly worse dialogue.
So things might be a little quieter here for a bit.
Not gone. Just quieter.
The funny part is that even when I’m “not writing,” the writing doesn’t stop. It just sneaks in through the side door. A scene here. A line there. Something scribbled down during one of those quiet moments when you’re supposed to be relaxing.
There’s a piece sitting on my desk right now that came out of that space. Something small, a little rough around the edges, but honest in a way that only happens when you’re not trying too hard.
Sometimes the quiet moments write the most honest scenes.
I may drop it here soon.
Or I may let it sit a little longer and see what it wants to become.
Either way, the stories are still here. They just move at their own pace sometimes.
And right now, mine seems to prefer a slower walk.
— Calder N. Halden
Craft is not evidence of a machine.
It is evidence of attention.
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