Creative Writing – Page 2

As writers, we probably like to think of our ideas as precious gems, sparkling with potential and promise. But what happens when those gems start to feel like rocks weighing us down? Moving on from a story idea can feel like a betrayal. It can feel like we’re giving up on something that might have been great if only we’d tried harder. But, sadly, sometimes, letting go is the most freeing, productive decision we can make.

Recognizing When a Story Isn’t Serving You

Every writer knows the thrill of starting something new. It’s like falling in love—the endless possibilities, the bursts of creativity, the “this is going to be amazing” energy. But over time, that spark can dim.

Here are a few signs your story idea might not be serving you anymore:

You’re Avoiding It: If you constantly find excuses to work on anything but your story, it’s worth asking why. Is it fear of failure, or are you genuinely uninterested? I will say the difficulty of this step comes from knowing the difference between writer’s block, intense procrastination, or a sign to actually quit.
It Feels Like a Chore: Writing isn’t always fun, but it should bring some sense of purpose or joy. If working on your story feels like dragging yourself through quicksand, it may no longer align with your creative goals. Unfortunately, I reached this point editing down my second draft of my YA novel that was once so dear to me in high school. It no longer felt inspired and became just another task to chug through.
The Idea No Longer Resonates: Maybe it felt groundbreaking when you first thought of it, but now you find yourself bored or disconnected from the concept. That’s okay—people grow, and so do creative tastes. Maybe you’re no longer writing the type of book you would read? Maybe it’s time to expand to something different (maybe even a different genre??).
You’re Forcing It to Fit: If you’ve twisted your story idea so many times it feels unrecognizable, it might not be the right project for you at this moment. This also might be a sign that you’ve lost focus and you don’t know what you’re going for with this idea.

The Emotional Weight of Letting Go

For years, I told myself I’d go back to that first draft of a novel I finished in high school. It sat on my computer like a ghost of a dream—haunting me with the promise of what could have been. But every time I opened the document, I felt dread, not inspiration. The characters no longer felt like mine. The plot felt shallow. Worst of all, working on it felt like an obligation, not a passion.

I clung to it for far too long because I thought letting go meant failure. It took me years to realize that setting it aside wasn’t a sign of giving up—it was a step toward making space for stories I actually wanted to tell.

Gracefully Setting a Project Aside

Letting go doesn’t have to be dramatic or final. You don’t need to delete files or burn notebooks (unless you want to; dramatic gestures are valid). Here’s how to set a project aside with intention:

Acknowledge Its Place in Your Journey: Every story idea, no matter how unfinished, has taught you something. Reflect on what this project gave you—new skills, insight, or even just a fun creative spark when you needed it.
Give Yourself Permission: It’s okay to say, “This isn’t for me right now.” Writing is a personal journey, and it’s better to move on than to force yourself into creative misery.
File It Away: You don’t have to toss the idea forever. Save your notes, drafts, and outlines. You might come back to it someday with fresh eyes—or never at all, and that’s fine too. Again, speaking from experience, I deleted way too many old drafts out of shame and now wish I had them on hand. I’d love to see how far I’ve come.
Celebrate the Space You’ve Made: By letting go, you’re freeing yourself for new, exciting projects that align with who you are now, not who you were when the idea first came to you. The possibilities are endless!

Moving Forward

Writing is an ever-evolving process. Just because an idea didn’t work out doesn’t mean you’re a bad writer or that you wasted time. It means you’re growing.

So if you’ve been holding onto a story that feels more like a burden than a joy, ask yourself: Is this serving me? If the answer is no, it might be time to let go. And when you do, know that you’re not giving up—you’re moving forward.

What about you? Have you ever had to let go of a story idea? What did that process look like for you? Let’s chat in the comments—I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Take care friends & Happy Thanksgiving!

For many young writers, the identity of “writer” takes root early. In grade school or high school, it’s easy to dream big and write even bigger. Stories pour out effortlessly between homework assignments, and the dream of publishing a novel or becoming the next great poet feels within reach. Writing becomes a cornerstone of self-expression, a part of who you are. Then, adulthood arrives like an unexpected plot twist, and suddenly, the words stop flowing.

I like to call this phenomenon The Great Writing Recalibration. It’s not just writer’s block in the traditional sense—the frustration of not finding the right words or ideas. It’s the struggle of figuring out where writing fits into the bigger picture of your life. Is it a fleeting phase? An on-and-off-again hobby? A consistent passion? A side hustle? Or is it the full-time job you’ve always dreamed of?

You’re not a failure, okay? We’re all having a hard time here….

The Great Writing Recalibration often begins when you hit the gauntlet of adulthood—new responsibilities, time constraints, and a world that demands practicality. Suddenly, writing no longer feels effortless or essential. The hours you once spent dreaming up stories might now go to a 9-to-5 job, errands, or simply catching your breath. Writing gets pushed to the back burner, and for some, it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

I know, because I’ve been there. For years, I felt like a writing failure. I had proudly finished the first draft of my novel, only to let it sit and collect dust for three years. I’d talk about how I was “working on it” or how I was “so close to finishing,” but deep down, I didn’t want to work on it. It felt like a chore. Each time I sat down to write, it was as though I was forcing myself to relive a version of me that no longer existed—the high school writer who poured her heart into this draft.

Looking back, I realize part of the problem was that I hadn’t considered the possibility that I simply needed a break from writing or that my old stories didn’t speak to me anymore. I didn’t give myself permission to grow beyond them. I was holding onto an idea of what writing “should” be in my life, instead of asking myself what I actually wanted it to be.

The key realization here is that a lack of time reveals priorities. This is not a bad thing—it’s simply life asking you to reassess what matters most. If you’ve always defined yourself as a “writer” but now find that writing has slipped down your list of priorities, that’s okay. It doesn’t mean you’re less creative or that you’ve “lost” something. It means you’re growing up, figuring out who you are, and redefining what you want.

The tricky part is coming to peace with this recalibration. For many, it feels easier to cling to the idea of being a writer and blame an ongoing “writer’s block” for not producing anything. But if months—or even years—pass without the drive to write, it’s worth asking yourself: What role does writing truly play in my life?

If it’s a hobby you love but don’t feel the need to commit to, that’s perfectly valid. If you still dream of making writing a central part of your career, then finding time to nurture it—even in small ways—is essential. And if it’s something that fades from your life entirely, only to resurface years later, that’s okay too. Writing doesn’t demand permanence; it only asks for honesty.

The truth is, adulthood is full of recalibrations. We struggle to define not only writing’s place in our lives but also our very sense of self. And in that process, the role of writing might shift, expand, or contract. Embracing that change—rather than resisting it—can help you move forward without guilt or regret.

The Great Writing Recalibration isn’t a sign of failure. It’s a chance to reflect on your passions, priorities, and evolving identity. Writing will always be there, waiting for you, in whatever role you choose for it. So take the time to decide, and remember: it’s okay if the words come and go, as long as you’re at peace with what you’ve written into the story of your life.

Keep writing, friends! Or don’t! It’s all okay!