Oh, time, time, time is on my side, yes it is
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One of my reader friends, Emma, sent me a copy of an essay by Maj-Britt Rosenbaum, MD titled Sabbatical. I wish I could find a copy of this article on-line because it's probably the best thing I've read on the topic. Rosenbaum perfectly captures the mix of anticipation and anxiety triggered by the very thought of that much "free" time.
"The private fantasy of uninterrupted time--time to waste, time to pour through my fingers if I want to, time to savor, time to loll in--has a different emotional texture than planned time off. Time extracted from the ongoing stream of schedules, commitments, and responsibilities, always balanced against such counterweights as "Can I afford it?" "Do I deserve it?" "What are my responsibilities?" "Will it be worth it?" and "Dare I, can I actually get away with it?"
All this -- and more -- is constantly churning in the back of my mind as I get closer and closer to the end of the year. Am I really going to do this?
In fact, it's pretty much too late to turn back now. I've steadily (stubbornly?) resisted taking on any commitments for 2012, and now most of my publisher's schedules are filled. If I publish anything next year it will be self-published.
That in itself is exciting. A new direction. A new challenge. A new adventure.
But doubts whisper in my other ear. I've worked hard to reach this point, the point of being able to even consider taking a serious amount of time off. Am I subconsciously sabotaging my success?
Will I miss my fantasy, so shiny and satisfying, so "unattainable"--an ideal I can wistfully compare to my busy, hectic life? With no future fantasy beckoning in the distance, will I instead look back to these busy days as the more rewarding times, when what I did mattered, when I felt useful, and "good," because I did for others?
How ingrained the work ethic is: to contribute, to excel, to climb the mountain, to use my "gifts" to do, to do, to do--to produce, to accomplish, to succeed.
Oh yes. I feel guilty even contemplating rewarding myself with sabbatical. Especially when everyone I know is busting their butt to make ends meet, to hit their goals, to carve a career out of ice.
Not that I'm choosing a sabbatical as a reward. I'm burnt out. I've been burnt out for nearly two years. But so what? I can still produce. The fact that I've come to dread writing is sort of beside the point, right? Because as long as I can function, it seems like I ought to.
I suppose that's why the decision to go on sabbatical feels increasingly like a reward and not therapy.
All I want is the chance to stand still for a while, to reflect, to feel, to listen more carefully to my own voice. Just to wait and see what bubbles up. One fear is that nothing will "bubble up," that no combustion, no energy will be generated. I fear that only cold wind blows in there--I fear a desert inside.
Yes. Exactly. Worse…right now I can function. I can produce. What if I come back from this break and I've lost the ability to drive myself forward, to work under this kind of pressure? What if it turns out I can't refill the creative well and on top of that, I've lost the discipline to march on without water in my canteen?
What then?
It's a risk. Will readers remember me in a year in a genre where there a couple hundred new titles every month?
I wake up at night thinking are you really going to do this? And yet…and yet…
I prefer to see it as a test run, a chance to find out if I have filled my house with enough life. I prefer to see it as an opportunity to listen to--and to express--my own voice, not the echo of others, not what they want to hear, what they want me to do, but just because, just because.
Maybe it is a mistake. But then, leaving the security of my day job was a risk too, and I've never regretted that decision. Not for one moment. I don't know if this sabbatical will bring equally dramatic results to my life, but I know that for better or worse, I'm going to do it.
And in an odd way, making this decision to leave, grabbing this chance, feels like taking the first step to coming back.
"The private fantasy of uninterrupted time--time to waste, time to pour through my fingers if I want to, time to savor, time to loll in--has a different emotional texture than planned time off. Time extracted from the ongoing stream of schedules, commitments, and responsibilities, always balanced against such counterweights as "Can I afford it?" "Do I deserve it?" "What are my responsibilities?" "Will it be worth it?" and "Dare I, can I actually get away with it?"
All this -- and more -- is constantly churning in the back of my mind as I get closer and closer to the end of the year. Am I really going to do this?
In fact, it's pretty much too late to turn back now. I've steadily (stubbornly?) resisted taking on any commitments for 2012, and now most of my publisher's schedules are filled. If I publish anything next year it will be self-published.
That in itself is exciting. A new direction. A new challenge. A new adventure.
But doubts whisper in my other ear. I've worked hard to reach this point, the point of being able to even consider taking a serious amount of time off. Am I subconsciously sabotaging my success?
Will I miss my fantasy, so shiny and satisfying, so "unattainable"--an ideal I can wistfully compare to my busy, hectic life? With no future fantasy beckoning in the distance, will I instead look back to these busy days as the more rewarding times, when what I did mattered, when I felt useful, and "good," because I did for others?
How ingrained the work ethic is: to contribute, to excel, to climb the mountain, to use my "gifts" to do, to do, to do--to produce, to accomplish, to succeed.
Oh yes. I feel guilty even contemplating rewarding myself with sabbatical. Especially when everyone I know is busting their butt to make ends meet, to hit their goals, to carve a career out of ice.
Not that I'm choosing a sabbatical as a reward. I'm burnt out. I've been burnt out for nearly two years. But so what? I can still produce. The fact that I've come to dread writing is sort of beside the point, right? Because as long as I can function, it seems like I ought to.
I suppose that's why the decision to go on sabbatical feels increasingly like a reward and not therapy.
All I want is the chance to stand still for a while, to reflect, to feel, to listen more carefully to my own voice. Just to wait and see what bubbles up. One fear is that nothing will "bubble up," that no combustion, no energy will be generated. I fear that only cold wind blows in there--I fear a desert inside.
Yes. Exactly. Worse…right now I can function. I can produce. What if I come back from this break and I've lost the ability to drive myself forward, to work under this kind of pressure? What if it turns out I can't refill the creative well and on top of that, I've lost the discipline to march on without water in my canteen?
What then?
It's a risk. Will readers remember me in a year in a genre where there a couple hundred new titles every month?
I wake up at night thinking are you really going to do this? And yet…and yet…
I prefer to see it as a test run, a chance to find out if I have filled my house with enough life. I prefer to see it as an opportunity to listen to--and to express--my own voice, not the echo of others, not what they want to hear, what they want me to do, but just because, just because.
Maybe it is a mistake. But then, leaving the security of my day job was a risk too, and I've never regretted that decision. Not for one moment. I don't know if this sabbatical will bring equally dramatic results to my life, but I know that for better or worse, I'm going to do it.
And in an odd way, making this decision to leave, grabbing this chance, feels like taking the first step to coming back.
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Jennifer
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Oct 15, 2011 11:51PM
How could your readers forget you in 12 months short of amnesia? We aren't that fickle and there aren't that many genuinely good writers out there among all those new titles.
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A sabbatical is brilliant. It is so rewarding. To be able to do as you please, go when you want, it is pure bliss.First few weeks are odd, you ask yourself, don;t I have to do something useful? Certainly when looking at the people around you who are running from one thing to the next. But you will get used to and then slowly that totally relaxed feel will come, trust me!
"All I want is the chance to stand still for a while, to reflect, to feel, to listen more carefully to my own voice. Just to wait and see what bubbles up. One fear is that nothing will "bubble up," that no combustion, no energy will be generated. I fear that only cold wind blows in there--I fear a desert inside."Definately do it, you must for your own peace of mind. If writing has become such a chore for you rather than a buzz then a break is absolutely needed. I want share with you two quotes, one from the amazing author Frank Herbert's book Dune and the other I have no idea who penned it but it works for me.
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
and
Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body but to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting "HOLY SHIT....WHAT A RIDE!!!"
Even if you never pen another book/novelette or Magnum Opus you have still gifted me personally hours of pleasure from your writings and for this you have my sincere gratitude.
Gina wrote: ""And in an odd way, making this decision to leave, grabbing this chance, feels like taking the first step to coming back."We'll be waiting, Josh. True, there are many books released each week, b..."
Thank you, Gina. I have these moments of anxiety but mostly I'm just focused on getting through the projects due before the end of the year.
THEN I'll probably be utterly in shock. :-D
Jennifer wrote: "How could your readers forget you in 12 months short of amnesia? We aren't that fickle and there aren't that many genuinely good writers out there among all those new titles."Aw. Thanks, Jennifer. Well, with a million new books published each week (okay, SLIGHT exaggeration) I wouldn't be surprised to be surplanted.
Ingrid wrote: "A sabbatical is brilliant. It is so rewarding. To be able to do as you please, go when you want, it is pure bliss.First few weeks are odd, you ask yourself, don;t I have to do something useful? Ce..."
Yes! This is what I hope and dream.
Karen wrote: ""All I want is the chance to stand still for a while, to reflect, to feel, to listen more carefully to my own voice. Just to wait and see what bubbles up. One fear is that nothing will "bubble up,"..."Such wonderful quotes. Thank you, Karen.
You've earned your sabbatical, Josh. I think I already told you how your stories helped me spend hours of my free time. Summer of 2010 will always be linked to my discovery of the AE series and reading it during my vacation. Your hard work is my leisure, so the least I can do is waiting for your coming back when you are ready.We won't forget you because: 1. you write the most re-readable books; 2. back-list is your friend.
Enjoy your time off! :-D
Emanuela ~plastic duck~ wrote:We won't forget you because: 1. you write the most re-readable books; 2. back-list is your friend. Thank you, Emanuela! Backlist IS my friend. :-D
Oh, Josh: this reader would far rather that you heal yourself when you need it (and I agree you've more than earned it with all of your hard work), than have you hate writing. Your stories have meant so much to me because they portray the joy found in real relationships--the end of Dark Tide has not only 1 but 2 scenes with the most romantic things I've read in my 30+ years as an avid reader. I would sooner never read anything new than risk anyone losing that perspective. I hope you'll at least be able to keep us posted about how you're doing, but if you need a rest from that, too, there's still not a chance of your being "supplanted," much less us forgetting you. :)
Grab on with both hands and move forward. It is indeed a gift you are giving yourself and what other gift could be so wonderful (and terrifying)? Every writer needs that time to experience new things -- you aren't shutting a door but instead opening yourself up. Well deserved--and try not to worry about those bubbles.
Sae wrote: "I hope you'll at least be able to keep us posted about how you're doing, but if you need a rest from that, too, there's still not a chance of your being "supplanted," much less us forgetting you. :)..."
I'll definitely be regularly checking in -- and maybe I'll spend more time talking about other people's books for a change. ;-D
Thank you, Sae, for those kind comments. That was lovely to hear about TDF. It's a story that's largely overlooked. (Even by me!)
Elise wrote: "Grab on with both hands and move forward. It is indeed a gift you are giving yourself and what other gift could be so wonderful (and terrifying)? Every writer needs that time to experience new thin..."Thank you, Elise! I will grab those bubbles with bot--well, maybe not. :-D
You are braver than I am. Have your break. It just means I finally have a chance go back and read all your backlog. Take your time it will better for you.
"I'm burnt out. I've been burnt out for nearly two years. But so what? I can still produce. The fact that I've come to dread writing is sort of beside the point, right? Because as long as I can function, it seems like I ought to. "And there dear man in those last few lines is exactly how the world wants you to feel--you can still put one foot in front of another--stop your whining and get back to work. But what about your soul Josh--what about that which makes you---you? That piece cannot go on--that piece is crying out--rest, please rest here a while so I can breathe and fill you once again. You have listened to the right voices--but then that is not a surprise is it? You listened to that small voice when you chose to leave your other job and begin writing in earnest. It is scary to think that we will come back from a time away unalterably changed--perhaps somehow less that when we left but is that really so very bad--will that man who sits across from you love sabbatical Josh any less than he loves exhausted Josh? I think not. And what about a change? What wondrous places will that mind and imagination of yours go to when it has just a bit more time to rest and reflect and create--I for one will hold out here just to see what happens. I think you will always find ways to create--no, that bone inside you is hardly broken--bruised, no doubt, but not broken and rest will only strengthen it.
And, of course we will wait--we'd be silly not to--why hare off to read those others when we have one of the best here? Even if you never publish again Josh, you have left a legacy of work that is smart, exciting and something to be damned proud of--and so you should be.
So, in a few short months, it begins--I think you should take some advice from all those characters you have written--those who choose to stride forward despite the danger, despite the potential for what they anticipate as possible failure--after all there is a piece of you in each of them--yes? You can never be less than what you are now--you can simply be better.
Rest--we will be here when you are done.
Vanyel wrote: "You are braver than I am. Have your break. It just means I finally have a chance go back and read all your backlog. Take your time it will better for you."Thank you, Vanyel. I hope you like what you find.
Sammy2006 wrote: ""I'm burnt out. I've been burnt out for nearly two years. But so what? I can still produce. The fact that I've come to dread writing is sort of beside the point, right? Because as long as I can fun..."Sammy, that's a lovely post. Thank you.
Josh, you are unforgettable. I understand the feeling of being burnt out (man, I would love to get away from my job for a while), but you should take the time off to recharge. Writing should be something you enjoy, when it becomes something you dread, it is time to step away. Don't worry about your fans, we will wait (and bitch at anyone who starts to whine about it).
Luvduchovny wrote: "Josh, you are unforgettable. I understand the feeling of being burnt out (man, I would love to get away from my job for a while), but you should take the time off to recharge. Writing should be som..."Aw, thanks, Luvduchovny. ;-)
Josh,You can see it as both reward and therapy. You need it to heal, but you've worked hard enough these past few years (despite burning out) that you've earned this.
You're allowed to doubt, allowed to feel scared, but as I read your post, it's clear that it IS the right decision.
I have no doubt you'll come back a new Josh, refreshed and filled with new ideas, and whatever else 2012 will bring you :)
And don't worry. We'll still be here when you get back *hug*
Blaine,
ps: You were one of two people who inspired me to drop my studies and focus solely on my writing. (though I should count the man who sold me his ereader, without him, I wouldn't have stumbled across this section of the net ...)
I haven't regretted that step, and am thrilled it's starting to pay off :)
You're one of my favorite writers, ever. So I won't be forgetting you anytime soon. Enjoy your time off. :)
Josh,This is a little snippet of a longer post I was reading from the Art of Nonconformity--while I didn't agree with the entire article, I thought this piece was spot on and decided to toss it out there for folks to think on.
The writer is speaking about the need for sabbaticals and how he feels there is a fine line between rest and recovery.
"While rest may be a passive activity—for me it’s reading books and hanging out in coffee shops—recovery is both passive and active. Recovery activities consist of things that help us recharge and get ready for the next thing...Getting back to the writing is a recovery activity. I opened up the files for a couple of big writing projects and immediately felt better. “This is why I do what I do,” I said to myself. “I need to recover so I can do more of it.”
The author of this post is Chris Guillebeau. Again, I don't agree with everything he wrote but I found this to speak a bit to what you have posted. Perhaps this will be the case for you--after finding that rest, you also will find that you need to recover to return to that which you love. My best wishes for you dear man!
Enjoy your time off, hopefully you'll be back with fresh stories and perhaps a slower pace afterwards, I love your stories, but I want you to have fun writing them
Go to New Mexico up to Taos and the surrounding area. Go to Chimayo and visit with Irvin Trujillo at Centineal Weavers. He dyes his own yarn with natural dyes and weaves some of the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen. Go over into Colorado in the summer, rent a cabin, and watch the hummingbirds jockey for the feeder (more than you can watch at one time). Whatever you do, take care of yourself. We can wait.
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