Posted on July 1, 2024
by Nina Lichtenstein
I know I’m not the only writer whose creative mojo left the room after the horrendous events on October 7thand the subsequent war in Gaza and Israel with all its gruesome images and devastation. You do not need to be Jewish or Palestinian to be impacted by such meaningless human suffering. Months went by with me spending an exorbitant amount of time doom scrolling and falling deeper and deeper into a zombie-like state, with no energy or conviction to get any writing done.
But writing is my life’s joy and purpose. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. Does this mean that for all those months, I lost, dear I say squandered, my identity, my raison d’être? You can see how this could easily snowball into an existential threat, beyond the looming depression from doom scrolling the news and subsequent lack of ability to summon my beloved creative urges.
I needed help to get back on track. Therapy, yoga, and meditation, as well as long walks in the woods with a friend, kept me from a total nosedive. Bartending two nights a week forced me to smile and be upbeat, for who wants their perfect martini shaken and served by a depresso? But none of this helped to bring me back to my writing. I busied myself and didn’t even bother with excuses.
Pondering what might help jumpstart my writing-mojo, I fantasized about a quick Viagra-fix to regain my creative arousal. But then I remembered the value of accountability. Deadlines have always worked well for me, but with a book just accepted for publication, and the next project still in my head (and in dozens of false-start-files on my computer), I had too much flexibility. That lull, combined with the horror-show unrolling on every screen I faced, turned into a mudflat that sucked me in. I was stuck.
But then I discovered an invitation by a fellow Jewish writer and creative spirit, Jena Schwarz, to join a 12-week accountability group that would also be a safe space to share difficult emotions around the situation in the Middle East, and a mindful, gentle way to encourage each other toward what brings us joy, namely our writing. And our writing as Jewish writers. We would check in three times a week in a private Facebook group moderated by Jena, and we would pay to join, which for me, added that extra push to show up and take it seriously. If it had been free, it would have been too easy to not do the work, to skip class.
So far, it has been seven weeks of showing up. On Mondays we name our intention (kavanah) for the week, on Wednesdays we can share our writing if we feel so inclined (devarim), and on Fridays Jena asks, “Tell me what you noticed this week, what you will hold onto, and what you will let go; tell us what jewels you will keep.” (tachshitim).
On the note of paying for something that does not outright offer “a lesson” or having your writing professionally edited/evaluated: I had to think about the value it would have for me to have a framework where I was expected to show up for myself, not, technically, for anybody else. A novel idea, and besides, I didn’t have a lot of extra funds for what seemed like an indulgence. But there was nothing typical about this time, so I decided to sign up. For the first time in my writing life, I asked if it was possible to pay on a sliding scale, and Jena graciously offered a rate that made it doable for me.
With this seed planted for renewed energy —and eventual growth, I hoped! —around my writing practice, I thought about other ways I could improve the chances of a sprouting writing mojo: I decided to stop drinking during the week, get to bed by 9:30 p.m. and asleep by 10 p.m. (I am by habit a night owl), get up by 5:30 a.m. to be at my desk by 6.a.m. Additionally, I would not check my email or social media before starting this new, early morning ritual, avoiding the (thus far never resisted) temptation of disappearing down rabbit holes. I would leave my phone in the kitchen, out of reach, as well as put my computer on “do not disturb;” all radical changes for this ADHD writer. With this I would gain at least ten hours of focused writing per week, which for one month would add up to forty hours. Now we’re talking. This could bode well for my next project: The Viking Jewess: a Convert’s Memoir.
It has been seven weeks of my new writing habit, and my project is already taking shape in ways I could not have imagined last fall. Some fringe benefits from recovering my mojo include better sleep at night, improved skin), and even some (welcomed) weight loss. Feeling empowered, I’ve also managed to make yoga a more regular part of my week, and I’ve even joined a once-a-week pickle ball practice, the added movement and social fun (and lots of self-depreciating laughter of a novice) only further energizing me.
The outside world does not look any better; I mourn the civilian death tolls on both sides, pray for the safe return of the hostages, and for peace. But my writing mojo is back and with it, more joy and life energy. I thank my writing community for this, and it’s not the first time I recognize the value of connecting with fellow creative travelers to find support, encouragement, and accountability. With spring and the feeling of renewal in the air finally here, I encourage you to find your people, sign up/join, and see how you too can get your creative mojo back.
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Nina is a recovering academic turned creative writer in mid-life, who lives in Maine. Her heart also lives in her native Norway and in Israel, where she has family. Her memoir Body: My Life in Parts is forthcoming from Vine Leaves Press in 2025. She is the founder and director of Maine Writers Studio, and you can find out more about her work on her website.