I’ve been going through this rather dull and unexpected phase for the last two weeks. Mostly, I think, because I have been working flat-out on so many projects for a sustained period of many months, and it has led me to this sort of hollowed-out place where I’m feeling uninspired and unmotivated. It’s also partly due to my obsession with the endless cycles of bad news from home and abroad. I’m not alone in this, and as much as we might try, it’s hard not to look at a train wreck, especially when the train is still moving. World events might take an even nastier turn than they already have, and I find myself checking the excellent MeidasTouch Network and other major independent news networks every ten minutes to see if someone has started shooting nukes. It’s all so dreadfully depressing, and has taken a toll on my customary sunny-side groove.
I greatly dislike these doldrums in my creative ocean. During them, I tend to think that perhaps I’ve given my best and have nothing left to offer, and that the old magic has left me. Crazy, I know, but I do tend to obsess about these things, and the more I do, the worse it all seems. I should really just chill out and go with the flow, because nothing is more likely to strangle the free flow of inspiration than dwelling on how utterly uninspired I feel.
So I’ve been doing the things I can do; reading, perusing my catalogue of past work, submitting to opportunities, free writing, and playing more golf than is good for me - though whether there is such a thing as too much golf is debateable for this golf nut!
Perhaps you’ll identify with the above, perhaps not. I’m inclined to think that no writer fully escapes the doldrums, not even the greats. There was a time I thought I would never experience them, but then it happened. You see, it’s not so much about not being able to come up with new ideas (in fact, I probably have far too many of them, which is part of the problem), nor is it about not being able to write (I finished the first draft of a new novel last week, and did plenty of other writing, including penning two new flash stories). No, what it’s really about is my subjective assessment of the quality of the work I’m producing.
Literary quality is an esoteric concept, and in this regard, one person’s meat is another’s poison. Some may like a lot of action with little interiority, others may relish a deep dive into a protagonist’s soul. When it comes to language, it seems to me that plain fare is very much in vogue, while I prefer a lyrical and musical beat. Whatever your taste, I think we can all agree that what it all boils down to is telling a good story in an authentic and consistent voice, and doing so with varying degrees of clarity and precision. At the end of the day, though, I’m first and foremost writing a story for me, so it is my judgement of the quality of my piece that matters most.
Yours second, mine first. Sorry, I’m being selfish, but it’s just how it is.
So today, I started tinkering with a brand new story idea, did some brainstorming on it, and came up with some cool concepts and notions for its development. It has the potential to be a great story, I think, but it all depends on my execution of it, and for me, that further depends on me being able to at least glimpse the overall shape of the story, and to know the precise point in the arc where it starts. Also, what it starts with (action vs. introspection) and who it starts with (who the POV character will be). I don’t worry too much about where the story ends until I’m well into it, and even if I decided on a particular ending at the start of the project, it would very likely change before I got there, due to the inherent capriciousness of character and the habit of story arcs to find their own resolutions. It’s no harm to have a notion of an ending, though, to set a navigation marker for my journey.
At this point, I haven’t written a single word of the story, but that’s okay because I’m still in the ideas phase. I could be delaying the writing, for all the reasons I mentioned above. I’m also delaying because my protagonist is not yet talking to me, and until I hear her voice, I’m just whistling in the dark.
Looking back over some recent and not-so-recent stories, I noted the number of false starts I made on many of them. Sure, some came in a flash, and emerged fully formed in one or two bursts of frenetic tapping. Others toyed with me, dangling their pretty fruits before my eyes then pulling them away as soon as I reached for them. For those stories, the opening and protagonist’s voice emerged by seeking them through free-writing exercises, or walking around my kitchen as I tried to visualise scenes and fit into the character’s skin, all the while mumbling to myself. A voice recorder is a useful tool for such times, because nothing is more certain than me having a great idea and then forgetting what it was, two seconds later.
Record everything, that’s my policy, and back it up multiple times.
Trying to find a character’s voice, then, can be an instantaneous experience, or it can be one where the writer needs to dig deep, overcome frustration, and seek the gems that must surely be hidden in the striata of ideas. Personally, I prefer the first option, and it’s a wonderful experience when a character walks onto the stage and starts telling me their story. In truth, I feel I’m doing something wrong if they don’t magically appear, because I’m a writer and therefore I should be inspired at all times, right?
Nope. Wrong.
The myth that writing is easy can be a trap. I’m not saying it’s hard all the time, but if we’re being honest here, I think we can agree that there are periods when it is. Everything has its season, every story has its time. What’s important, I think, is that we cut ourselves some slack, allow ourselves the time to reflect and reload, and trust that everything is going to be fine. While waiting for this period to pass, I can go for a walk, knock a little white ball about with a stick, meditate, pray, and limit my intake of international news to the bare essentials. Then, when the time is right, I can permit myself to rediscover the joy of assembling words into neat sentences that form, as a whole, something truly magical.
Not resisting, that’s the trick, because resistance to ‘what is’ leads only to frustration.
Normal service will resume soon, and if experience has taught me anything, it’s that these doldrums are really growing pains, and can very often lead me to greater achievements in craft. In this way, I can reframe them as a gift, and embrace them as such.
Go on, create a little magic, and get ready to send it to us in June.
The Frazzled Lit Short Story Award 2026 will open for submissions on June 1st, and we feel hugely honoured to have twice-Man Booker longlisted and multi-award winning Irish author Donal Ryan as this year’s judge. Donal has long been one of my literary heroes, and I’ve been most fortunate to meet him, and to have him read some of my work. His short fiction and novels are among the finest works ever produced by an Irish writer. Six finalists will have their stories put before him, from which he will pick the three winners, so send us your very best!
We can’t wait to see what you have for us!