Moving Through Post-Project Blues
I didn’t expect to find myself writing this piece. Not now, not ever (naive? A little).
You see, I pride myself on being a woman with many creative pursuits. I’m always working on, or dreaming up, multiple projects and ideas at once.
When one is launched, completed or sent off into the world, its space is quickly filled with something completely different, yet all-encompassing nonetheless.
And yet, here we are.
A little over a month after completing my first novel (and sending it off to a literary competition) and I’m still wallowing aimlessly in what I’ve diagnosed as post-project blues.
It’s a strange feeling, because I’m not used to it. I finally achieved a task so monumental and thrilling (a childhood dream, no less) and now I’m not sure what to do with myself.
I literally spent YEARS dreaming of the day that I’d be able to call myself an author, of holding a completed manuscript in my hands, and the build up was so drawn out, so crackling with anticipation, that once it happened I felt completely lost.
What do I do now? This task, this achievement, this creative birth – done. I have proved that yes, I CAN do it. Yes, I CAN write a novel. Brilliant. Amazing. Fantastic. Now what?
I write this today not to complain, but to shed light on what I realise is a very common phenomenon. Because after weeks of feeling off, disorientated and scattered, I finally realise WHY I feel this way.
Damn post-project blues.
After nine months of devotion to said book, it’s only natural for my mind, body and spirit to feel discombobulated now that the book is no longer at the forefront of my life (I will revisit it later this year, but for now, nada).
How long will this last? I dunno. Is there a cure? I’m not sure of that either.
I’ve spent the last few weeks basking in the glow of my achievement, resting, taking it slow and dabbling on other ideas for my business. All valid uses of my time and energy, but something still feels off.
I thought that once I’d finished with the fiction beast, I would dive back into my personal essays and articles for Rust. But my writer’s block, or rather, energy block, remains.
Not only have I written the bare minimum (understandable), briefly wondered if I should start book two (bonkers) and internally sighed that I likely won’t be publishing anything at 25 (incredibly dramatic), but I’ve felt separated from my creative spirit.
A part of me fears that the passion and sacral energy that fuels my writing has been completely depleted, and now I face the looming fate of (im)patiently waiting for it to return and be filled.
I mean, I get it. I did a big thing. But I also want to start on the NEXT big thing. It’s been weeks! I want my drive back. I know it will come back. But when? Can I have an exact date? I would love to schedule it into my Google Calendar.
Alas, that’s not how creativity works. You know this, I know this. And yet we still have resistance along the way.\
One thing I CAN confirm, is that my energy for service and support is brimming. I feel more ready that I’ve ever been to dive into coaching and guide women to explore their rhythm and creativity.
Perhaps that’s a lesson in itself. It’s not my time to create. It’s my time to serve.
What’s it your time to do?
Love, Viv
Stuck in post-project blues?
I’d love to be a shoulder to lean on, ear to listen and pillar of support to hold you up, and guide you forward during this time. Let’s move through it together.