touch grass

(I really need to)

There’s a camp in northern Maine, just off the Appalachian trail, that I’ve gone to since I was a kid. It’s a place that felt magical when I was younger, with its seemingly endless woods, sparkling lake, and hidden spots only my friends and I knew about. It’s almost impossible to put into words what a place like this is like, I tried capturing it the best I could in the first romance book I ever wrote (that maybe someday I’ll finally edit and publish).

As I’ve grown older, my feelings about this place have shifted from excitement, to dread, to reluctant enjoyment, to excitement again. As a teenager, being separated from society with no electricity, cell service, or internet was almost torture.

Now? It’s something I think I need in order to function.

I’ve been debating on writing any sort of “thing” about this trip and going off the grid. Admittedly I’ve always been the type to roll my eyes a little when people make big showy “I need a break from the internet” type posts.

But fuck it, I really, really do need a break from the internet (and from, well, everything).

The last month and a half has put me in a horrible writing slump, one that I’ve convinced myself a few times that I can’t come back from. It’s not burnout, it’s more that I’ve been bummed out, and it seems that my creativity is taking a direct hit.

I’ve been pissed at myself that writing is not coming easily to me anymore, and I’m scared that because it’s no longer easy I’m no longer going to do it.

A tiny voice in my brain keeps telling me that it wouldn’t matter if I stopped. In so many ways it’s freeing to think that way, because, yeah, obviously, writing a book shouldn’t feel like pulling teeth. I have no one to answer to but myself, my deadlines are all self imposed, I could simply disappear with zero consequence. Series go unfinished all the time, I wouldn’t be the first. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve considered disappearing almost daily for the last few weeks.

There are paragraphs and paragraphs of thoughts and feelings about how putting my raw self out there by way of publishing monster romance has changed how I perceive myself, but I’m not about to unpack all that.

Really, I think I just need to touch grass, literally.

So here it is, my self-serving post about how I’m taking a break from the internet. I know that being in the woods for a little while will do me some good, and I really hope that it gives me my spark back.

If you need me, I’ll be reading books while sitting on an Adirondack chair looking at the last bits of fall foliage still hanging on the trees.