Last week we talked about how our vision is always ahead of our creative execution, and how that can be a good thing. The vision can pull us forward toward realizing our dreams.

But there may come moments when The Gap feels insurmountable. Or we may get discouraging feedback that makes us wonder if it’s worth it to continue.

Google “What percentage of people give up their new year resolutions by February” and you get a consistent statistic: 80%. I have no idea how accurate that is, but it seems pretty consistent with the fact that for most people I know, myself included, commitment starts to flag right around this time.

Many of us have made writing goals in the New Year. In these first heady days of possibility and excitement, we may find it easy to stick to our commitment – to write every day, to write a certain number of words per day or week, to finally finish that book that’s been dragging on (and on...).

It’s that time of year when thoughts turn to setting goals for the next year. Even if you’re not a “New Year’s Resolutions” person, you may be thinking about what you accomplished this year, and what you want to accomplish in 2023.

Recently on Twitter someone asked: “What do I do when I run out of ideas for writing? I finished my last book and I don’t know what to write next.”

First of all, as a writer, let me acknowledge that this is a scary one. To think you might be tapped out, done... this is all there is... calls into question whether you can call yourself a writer in the first place.

It’s SUMMER! At least here in the U.S., when summer unofficially begins with Memorial Day weekend.

Did I do any writing over the long holiday weekend?

No.

Is that ideal?

This is actually my second attempt at a blog post for today. I had a whole other post half-written, when I realized:

a) It was too complex and esoteric for most people to care about

b) It was better suited to a Master’s thesis in literature than actual helpful writing advice

The craft of writing can be learned. What often makes the difference between a writer and a non-writer are the ways in which they deal with the challenges of actually getting to the writing itself.

I was a lonely kid a lot of the time. Because of that background, it’s perhaps even more meaningful to me in adulthood when I find myself in a group that shares and enhances my own interests. It’s a stereotype that writers are curmudgeonly loners. I’m not convinced of that. And even if writers need to isolate in order to make the time to create, I find time and again that writers also treasure a sense of community. This can show up in many ways.