Returning to the Words

When the mind grows quiet: the writer’s pauses

Today I looked at the clock at 4:12 a.m.

I was probably awake long before that.

Sometimes I don’t write anything, and sometimes I wake up with this wild, urgent need to write.

But when I don’t write anything…

Those are the moments when silence wraps itself around me.

Sometimes I don’t write anything.

It’s not a lack of time or ideas —those are always there, circling around— but rather those pauses we writers go through.

Blocks? I’m not sure that’s the right word.

They feel more like seasons in which I simply don’t feel like writing. Days when I don’t want to know anything: not about the world, not about anyone, not even about myself.

These are the moments when I tell myself, “Today I can’t. Today my mind doesn’t want words.”

And it’s okay… because that’s also part of the process.

There are months when I write endlessly. Others when I barely touch the keyboard. And then there are those strange days when I wake up early —after barely sleeping— and suddenly the words start flowing on their own, as if my mind had been waiting for that silence to sort through what it feels.

Sometimes I want to write everything at once: ideas, emotions, stories, reflections…

I get excited, inspired, and then —suddenly— I pause. As if I needed to breathe between paragraphs.

I don’t know exactly what to call it. Maybe it’s simply life moving me at its own rhythm.

Sometimes fast, sometimes contemplative.

Sometimes generous, sometimes quiet.

The only thing I’ve learned is that you shouldn’t fight those pauses.

They are part of the journey, part of me, part of what makes every return to the words feel more honest.

What do you think about these pauses? Have you ever felt the same?