How my writing has suffered recently

As I’m typing these words, the landscape is flying by my train window as the autumn sun is setting. I have already been trying to write this down before getting on my next adventure. And also, when I was settling into my new temporary home, but never got around to it, so I think I have a little confession to make:

This year, my writing suffered. I have made decisions that were bad for writing.

This doesn’t mean that it wasn’t a good year. What a year it was! I went on so many adventures. For a work thing in Helsinki I travelled there by ship and night train. I visited friends in the Netherlands, took a seminar in Utrecht, went to a concert in Amsterdam, spent a week in London with my friends, and even took as trip to Stockholm with my mother. I began working as a research assistant, and for the last regular semester in my master’s degree took so many interesting classes, I barely got to sleep between reading interesting things. For my internship, I currently moved to Dresden, at the other end of Germany, far in the east …

… You might guess my problem right there.

I don’t want to brag. I am amazed by all the interesting things that I get to do. When the pandemic hit my life, I was unable to cope with the sudden nothingness all over my life, and I suddenly thought that I had been missing out on so many dreams I had not been able to reach for until then. I cried as if my life was over for so many years!

And right now, I wish for a moment of silence. A moment of quiet to sink into myself and process all the impressions I was so lucky to make. Sometimes, I feel as if a thousand tales are lingering in the back of my head, and I just have to hold myself still for a second so that they get the chance to come out.

This also does not mean that I did not accomplish anything for my writing life this year. Within the last 12 months, I actually published shorter formats twice and once went back on stage. Those are huge steps!

I have always loved being busy. Before the pandemic, I never listened into myself, and when I finally had to, I had to cope with too much for one person to handle. I can still fall back into being my busy self. At the moment, I work a very busy fulltime job at a large museum as an intern, and I enjoy everything about it. I enjoy meal prepping, long office days, and walks through the old heart of the town as the street lights are being turned on.

But I also miss my writing days. I miss interacting with all the things usually packed away in the back of my head so orderly. I miss erupting into a poem, working on my novel. When I thought I couldn’t live anymore, I found a new standing in this world, and I found a voice to scream in. I must not forget about that. Sometimes, all I want is sitting at a café in Aachen (far in the west of Germany, were I come from) again, and write poems with a broken heart.

This is a promise to myself. I will from now two to three times a week take some time to write again! Now that I have settled into my new flat share and got to know the city of Dresden with all its moved history a bit better, I will force myself to do this! More witching, writing time!