EWE, Discouragement, & Perspective: a wordy wizard’s writing journey

Photo by Lauren Mancke on Unsplash

By Vailyon; used with permission

The past three(ish) months of writing have been hard. Lots of staring at documents, sub-hundred word writing sessions, and overall writing discouragement. There have been weeks where inspiration hits and I write a chapter in a day, but mostly it’s been a long slog through section three of my novel. In other words, hi, my name is Vailyon, and I struggle with writing.

So how did it all start? Well, to be brief (hah!) the Olympics. Two weeks in mid-July where everyone on my Forum competes to see who can write the most words in differing categories.  Also termed “Vailyon induced insanity” and “how to kill your brain in two short weeks.” Over the course of the two writing periods, I wrote over 31,000 words, including nearly 10K on the final day. So yay, lots of writing, tons of plot, and leaps and bounds in storytelling. What’s the problem? Two things, and I’ll deal with the easier one first.

Post Olympics, I suffered from what I have termed EWE, or extensive writing exhaustion. After writing nearly 10,000 words in a single day, I was mentally exhausted. The fountain of creative juices was dry. I was artistically parched. And I don’t think I’m the only one who has ever suffered from this. Nor do I think it has to be the quantity of writing.  Any mentally, emotionally, or creatively exhausting scene in your book can lead to EWE. For me, it was the sheer amount of writing above my normal quantity. For some it could be the emotionally draining black moment, or mentally taxing climax where you have to keep track of five different plotlines you’re somehow tying up in this one scene. Whatever the cause, EWE can slow down progress, or even halt it completely. (Do I sound like a doctor yet?)

So what did I do? I stopped writing. I took a break. Or tried to…I also read books. The week after the Olympics I read through a seven-book series. Both of these refresh your creativity. Part of me really wanted to just keep pushing through, plodding through the plotline, reworking things, but every time I did, almost nothing came out of it. Sure I read through the 30K I wrote during the Olympics, but did I change anything? No. Did I write anything at the end? No. Even when I tried to write, nothing really worked. I was still exhausted. So if you find yourself struggling against EWE, stop, take a break, and set the novel down. It will be there when you get back.  And you probably won’t get anything done on it anyway. Time is the ultimate healer for EWE.

But I said two things, right? And if it had just been EWE, I’d be over it in a few weeks, right? Well I wasn’t.  Because it wasn’t just EWE. In the last few days of the Olympics, especially the last two days of final’s week, I started questioning both my time management and the value of writing. Should I really devote this much time to writing? Aren’t there better things I can do with my time? At what point does my novel become an idol? I tried dismissing these worries, telling myself that this was once a year and it was fine. But they kept coming back, even after the Olympics, bringing friends. Couldn’t you spend your writing time studying Scripture instead? What eternal value does your novel even have? If you’re not planning on publishing, what’s even the point of writing the story?

So what did I do? I stopped writing. Or basically did. And not because I was creatively exhausted, though that played some part in it early on. Once I was rejuvenated, I did start back writing. Or tried to… But the motivation wasn’t there. I’d stare at the screen, maybe get a few hundred words in, then feel guilty because I just wasted two hours of my time. Honestly the main reason I wrote during this time was because people on the forum would start complaining if I didn’t keep the story going. And I wanted to bring something to the weekly critique group.  But was I excited? Not really. Maybe there was one or two scenes that spurred my creativity, but all too soon those were over.

Not only that, but I’d gotten to the bleakest part of my novel thus far. The second black moment was upon me, my MC was faced with an enormous amount of emotional turmoil, and I started school. When I did sit down to write, I might make it through half a small scene, a piece of a conversation, but that was it. All the while, I was faced with my own inner turmoil of the value of what I was doing. I’d spent a year working on this, and I was only halfway done. What was the point of this in the greater scheme of eternity? Couldn’t I have done something more beneficial with that time? But there was the conflicting reality that God had gifted me with the ability to write. But how was I supposed to balance my hobby with growing deeper in my understanding of who God is and closer in my walk with Him?

Finally, after months of struggling with the issue of balance, I did something terrifying. I admitted it. Verbally. To another person. I talked with an elder at my church who I meet with regularly about my struggle and asked how he balanced his own personal faith with writing.  Granted, he writes theology books while I write entirely fictional accounts of worlds that don’t even exist, but I was curious. And discouraged. And very conflicted. He did say that his balance was easier since writing books about theology generally focus on God (except, he was far less sarcastic and put it very nicely). But then he pointed out that I could do the same thing in my stories, exploring my personal theology through fictional stories. It was an interesting thought, but it didn’t quite stick to me. Should I can my novel and write short stories instead?

So I pondered his words. For about five minutes. Then tucked them away in my “think about later” box and promptly forgot about them. Yay for male brains. At least, that’s how mine works. Until about a half a week later in a weekly Bible study I host at my house. We’re a small group. Of two. And the other guy ran late, thus we didn’t have as much time. And then proceeded to go on a theological rabbit trail off the first point. Thank God for theological rabbit trails. This one led to a discussion of matters of conscience. The text was Romans 14, so we were sort of on topic. All that to say, we happened to fall into discussing my struggles with writing. I brought up the elder’s words, but in talking through everything, I had a sudden thought that came as a question: am I writing to tell the story, or am I writing to show God’s character through the story? This thought blew my mind, even as it came out of my mouth. I literally stopped the conversation and wrote it down. And, after pondering on it for nearly a week, there are several things that have sprung out of it.

Firstly, is how subtle the shift is in that question. It’s a matter of perspective that answers the question of why. Why am I writing? Where is my focus? Am I simply writing this to put the story in my head onto paper, or is my focus on the attributes of God that come out through my writing? In one case, I’m concerned about getting my MC from point A to point B in the plotline. In the other, I’m looking for ways my character’s forgiveness can reflect that of God. The second perspective lends far more motive to storytelling.

Secondly, the volume of writing is, as we discussed that night in Bible study, a matter of conscience. What’s too much time for me might not be a problem for someone else. The amount of time I spend staring at my document or daydreaming plot twists might be too much for another person. Each of us need to come to an understanding and answer two questions, ones I’ve found helpful. First, am I neglecting the gift God has given me by ignoring my writing? Secondly, and far more convicting for me at least, am I writing so much that I neglect the things of God? I diagnose this with several sub-questions. Do I find it hard to focus on the word of God in my quiet times (or any other time) because I’m too busy thinking about what’s going to happen in my book next time I sit down to write? Do I find myself annoyed because loving people and caring for people is encroaching on my writing time? These help assess my inner motivations and put up warning flags when I get too close to the “too much” area.

Thirdly and finally, publishing does not matter. Remember one of those doubts that came up? What’s the point of writing this story if you’re never going to publish it? I found the answer. Several actually. If, through writing, I’m showing God’s character, I’m personally learning more about Him. I’m developing ideas of what godly love looks like, what selfless forgiveness means, how justice and mercy play together. Not only that, but I’m sharing that with others. Sure I’m not publishing, but I’m still sharing it. Folks who read the novel on the Forum, my siblings who bug me when I don’t write, and those random folks who learn I’m an author and ask me for stories. Just because my novel isn’t published, doesn’t have a massive reach to the international market, doesn’t mean it has no impact at all. Even if there’s only ever one person who gets encouragement out of my story, draws closer to their Creator, finds hope in hopelessness, isn’t that worth it? Does it have to be big to be worth it?

I don’t think so.

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Does it have to be big to be worth it? I don’t think so.

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