As a child, I would always hear the phrases “never quit”, “keep on pushing” and “winners never quit, and quitters never win”. We have been bombarded by messages of how one must push through the most challenging circumstances, no matter what. Diligence is a valued virtue. Quitters are seen as lazy, weaker, or even stupid. While this line of thinking isn’t inherently wrong or harmful, we can warp its overexposure of it into something bad.

Something I’ve noticed about this generation is that quitting is no longer a sign of failure in all situations but in some a strength. Whether it be quitting a job, a relationship, a task, or anything, we look at quitting differently. Stepping out of a situation dragging you down and taking an emotional toll on you is perceived as good. I like that.

I am a writer, and I have been for some odd years. Over the years, it’s gone from a little passion, a faint materialization of the little thoughts in my head, to something I really hope can become a career for me one day. Since then, I have overloaded myself with everything writing and consumed media to rebirth it into something more creative. I was writing constantly, doing it between classes, and even sometimes at the expense of things I was required to do (like schoolwork and things with deadlines). Writing came in a rapid-fire for me, and I was constantly churning out stories and books like they were from a sweatshop. Even when I wasn’t writing, I played with my characters like dolls in my head, thinking of new plots and expanding their characterization in my mind.

Last year I wrote three complete novels (whether they are good is the question) and I took a step back. Slowly, but surely, my momentum was dwindling like an empty jetpack.

Ever since I did NaNoWriMo last year and all its other challenges, I’ve made it a challenge to do it every year. Earlier, I planned to edit my historical fiction novel but felt the deep hit of writer’s block like a train. What I had finally feared for had happened.

Writing did not feel the same way.

I clawed at its remanents, desperately tried to light the dying ember and hoped my hyper-fixation would love me the same way. But it didn’t. I didn’t feel on fire for the book, so I left it alone. Then I picked up another project and made it a good 5 days before I quit.

I was so disappointed. I had never in my life quite a writing project or given up. No matter what, I had always seen it through. But then I realized that was the problem. I wrote too fast, burning through drafts like gasoline. I didn’t care about the fact that I was writing, I just wanted to have written.

The idea of writing consumed me. I pushed off my other life priorities to make room for writing. I didn’t give myself time to rest, instead; I kept churning out more and more because I thought that wasn’t what actual writers did. Before this, I had never felt writer’s block, but now that I burned myself out, all the little bits and pieces hit me like a wave. And it continued.

And it continued.

And it continued.

And it continued.

And it’s still going on.

I tried my hand at Camp NaNoWriMo again in July but got through 3000 words in two days. It didn’t feel the same. Now I realized what had happened. I needed to stop forcing myself to get words down on the page.

Recently, BTS announced their hiatus during their Festa, an anniversary celebration. Before you wonder why I’m mentioning my favourite k-pop group in the article, just hear me out. I remember Min Yoongi, also known as Suga, saying that he felt like songwriting was just forcing words down on the page and didn’t feel like his writing was genuine. That struck me, as I’ve always had some inkling suspicion that their recent discography was losing its uniqueness.

I related back to Yoongi. When my heart and mind are not in it, I feel no desire to create something meaningful. I realized that the minuscule things I had written weren’t like me and were exhausting to write. When I typed on the keyboard, I felt like I was holding my breath, and closing the document was a huge exhale. But writing was something I loved, and it wasn’t supposed to feel like I was under stress.

So that’s why I’m embracing my writer’s block and embracing quitting. Even though I’m not writing, I’m still a writer and creator. I’m not writing words, but I’m editing, outlining, and creating two online communities for writing. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again, and it may take months or even years (hopefully not) for me to write words comfortably. But this isn't forever, I know that.

I know I will write again.