The Year of No Words

Watercolor by Jack Martin, Jr.

Burnout. There’s no denying when it happens; you know when you’re there. For writers, it can mean a creative standstill—or lacking any desire to write at all.   
 
A little over a year ago, my siblings and I lost our brother, Jack. His death ripped a hole in all of us, and it changed me forever. I had experienced great loss before—my father, nine years ago, and my mother, twenty-five, and both still feel like they happened yesterday. Those experiences were devastating, but nothing could prepare me for losing a sibling. It wasn’t so much about his age, even though he was only sixty-one. It was about his potential, about regrets, about all the love and joy he would miss out on. And it was about our experiences and memories growing up together, as Jack and I were barely two years apart. It all came back.
 
In the months and year following his death, I found myself unable to write anything that required deep or emotional thought. Suddenly my stories, which often involve loss or death, seemed trivial, pointless, and even inappropriate to an extent. My second novel, In the Vanishing Hour, in which my main character can’t move on after her brother’s death, felt like a poor imitation of real life. I wrote it long before I knew my brother’s life would end, but that didn’t matter. Losing him changed everything.    
 
As the months—and then a year—passed, I tried writing, but found the process forced, the words empty. Meanwhile, I had a completed rough draft of my third novel staring back at me, with no words or desire to begin the editing process. I also had short stories in progress, and a few screenplays (more on that venture soon), waiting for me to dive back in. Even social media, which had become my creative tool and outlet, suddenly felt like a foreign language and a wasteland. I lost my desire to take part in it and felt I had nothing to say.
 
And there was the day job, that time-draining, mind-numbing obstacle most writers need to pay the bills. I often ask myself why I stayed in a career (computer-aided drafting) I disliked for so many years. I could have abandoned it at age 30, 40, or even 50, and started over. Lesson learned: Follow your dreams. Never settle. Life goes by incredibly fast.
 
Jack and I were alike in that we had the need to leave our creative stamp behind. If he were alive today, he would tell me to stop playing it safe and pursue every dream I want, and to post without hesitation. Losing him was not the only reason for my lack of words, but it was one of many catalysts for my writing burnout—and a period of reflection, which I probably needed. I’m now at the age he was when he passed away, and I’m finally ready to dive back in again. 
 
Above is one of my favorite watercolors of Jack’s. More on novel #3 and screenplays coming soon.