Joseph Jarrett

There’s something so insanely special about being a writer. Having the ability and the honor of being able to tell a story is such a gift. The old tale goes that practice makes perfect. I would like to argue and say that you cannot always practice your way into being good at something. In the same fashion, you cannot always be perfect at something you have a natural inclination towards. Funny, isn’t it?

I’ve been told for most of my life that I’m such a good writer that I can paint an image with words in such a profound way. Well, guess what? I’ve written a lot of very poor-quality stuff in my lifetime. You see, I have a tendency to get the ideas for a masterpiece in my mind, but then I lose track of them. I can piece together the big, bold, and important things I initially imagined, but after that…who knows what’ll end up in that Word document.

You need to understand that I really do care more about the quality of my work than I care about the quantity. I feel the burnout coming. I can tell when I’m about to lose my groove and not be able to come up with solid ideas anymore. I’ve started to accept that and tell myself that it’s okay to step back. Funny enough, I had this happen just a few weeks back. To let you in on a secret I’ve been keeping, I’ve been working on a fiction piece that I actually want to release one day. Crazy, right? Well, I had the frame and outline of my story, and it sat untouched for about two months after I got that out of my system. When that hiatus ended, I typed out SIXTY PAGES of the story. I felt insane afterwards, but it was all stuff I was proud of and felt captured the story I have been envisioning in my head. That hiatus has since returned, and it has been about three more weeks since I last worked on the manuscript.

Now, I’m not saying I stop writing entirely. I simply shift my focus elsewhere. In some way, shape, or form, I find myself writing on a daily basis. While it might not be one consistent project, I always feel the need to get the stockpile of words out of my head. I still keep my journals. I have a Google Docs page that I explicitly use to write out ideas, possible posts for this blog, and any other semi-usable piece of literature I conjure up. Just because society has put pressure on mainstream writers to be a book factory does not mean I am required to give in. Whatever happened to being patient, right?

Sometimes, I feel like Renee Rapp’s emotional state in her song “I Think I Like You Better When You’re Gone.” There’s something so comforting about being in solitude from something you love, but something that also happens to be incredibly overbearing. Having something looming over your head like that is never healthy. For me, it’s not a romantic partner or a family member that causes that sensation; it’s my writing. I would love to sit down with these powerhouse writers and ask how they do it. Because there is no way on God’s green earth that I could put out as many books as some of them do. And some do it so quickly, which is even crazier to me. Couldn’t be me. I’m too busy stressing over what playlist I want to play for the twelve-minute drive to the grocery store. We aren’t the same.

So, yes, I do not consistently write quality, publishable work on a daily basis. Even my creativity has a capacity or a cut-off point. My goal is simply to channel my energy elsewhere until I feel ready to jump back into my artistic ways. And I think everyone else is allowed that, too. That seems fair, doesn’t it? It’s rough being human sometimes. Cheers to that.

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