Read a book about writing.
Listen to a podcast about Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni. Promptly fall down a rabbit hole of Reddit threads and TikTok videos (you do not have TikTok but quickly learn you can still watch videos in an Internet browser via a bookmarked link to some woman named “Steph With Da Deets”). Discuss updates with your Book Club in an ongoing What’s App thread. Refer everyone to TikTok, for Steph does, indeed, have da deets.
Watch the Buy Now documentary, which leads you to research eco-friendly cleaning products that are sustainable, climate neutral, and plastic-free. Place an order with Blueland, swap your dryer sheets for dryer balls, and add multiple reusable glass hand soap dispensers to your home wishlist. (Baby steps, you whisper to yourself.)
Talk to your friends about writing.
Doomscroll, doomscroll, doomscroll some more. Feel rage. Feel panic. Wonder if you are overreacting. Confer with friends. (Consensus: you are not overreacting.) Check on people in your life who work for the federal government. Sign up for emails from World Relief and City of Refuge. Restock your little free library, download the 5 Calls app, and then doomscroll for a few more minutes.
Look for writing jobs online. Take note that almost all of them involve training AI. Spiral for seven hours.
Start planning your 40th birthday—which is more than a year away—by bookmarking destinations, Airbnbs, flight deals, and weather screenshots.
Let your mind wander, dream, imagine. Purchase two domains on a whim (!). Secure two Instagram handles (!). Build a secret Pinterest board for an idea you may or may not pursue in the future.
Print what feels like 73 pages of paperwork related to doing your taxes. Put them in a neat pile next to unpaid medical bills and all the mail you haven’t opened yet.
Listen to a podcast about writing.
Discover rat droppings in your closet. Have a proper meltdown. Empty out clothes, shoes, everything you own. Purge your bra drawer. Your underwear drawer. Your pajama drawer. All of your shoes. Wash everything. Wash all the things. Pack up two generous bags of items that are no longer sparking joy while your husband sprays some kind of rat-proof foam all around the closet cracks. Feel a flash of temporary regret over buying a house built in 1950.
Pop into a thrift store and buy a handful of paintings you don’t technically have space for. Consider redecorating your entire house. Get overwhelmed at the prospect of redecorating your entire house. Stack the paintings on the floor in the dining room and ignore them for four weeks.
Watch a YouTube video about writing.
Finally click on a sponsored ad for colostrum. Poke around. Feel confused. Google incessantly. Close the tab.
Resubscribe to Netflix. Immediately watch all nine episodes of the latest season of Love is Blind. Text your friend who is also watching and begin swapping memes.
Purchase a Fiddle Leaf plant from Costco for $35. Sign up for emails from Happy Happy Houseplant. Order plant food. Read 49 reviews of plant cleaning wipes, root supplements, and something called “rescue drops.” Put $87 worth of plant support products in online shopping cart. Wait 24 hours. Decide to live dangerously and try to keep the plant alive by yourself. Remove everything from shopping cart.
Write a Substack post about all the ways you’re not writing. Start a load of laundry. Wonder if you’re the only writer struggling. Remember three new episodes of Love is Blind just dropped today (!). Promise yourself you’ll write tomorrow.
(This post was a fresh version of Ten Ways To Stop Being a Writer, as originally inspired by Daien Guo.)
P.s. you also might like: Drowning in Content
Discussion about this post
No posts
Actually laughed out loud at the very relatable specificity of this. As always, thanks you for your contribution.
Me: how do I tell my agent I might need a deadline extension
Also me: Who would like to hear my entire thesis presentation about Blake Lively and Justin Baldoni, complete with a bibliography and dated receipts