The Healthy Writer

When I think about what it takes to be a writer, multiple ideas immediately come to the fore–long hours slumped over a keyboard, deleting of numerous characters and insertion of countless others that may survive, the solitude of being left alone to tell a story that others will read in solitude to enjoy, and the aggravating unknowing knowledge that the story might come together and yet might not.
But I’ve discovered for myself finally that there is so much more that goes into it.
The hard way.
It took me a total of twelve months to write the first draft of The Dark Thorn, my contemporary fantasy that takes place in Rome and Seattle and weaves Arthurian Legend, Celtic Mythology, the history of the British Isles and the history of the Vatican. To me I felt like it should have been wrapped up six months earlier by some internal deadline I can’t even begin to explain. By the time I entered the final four-month stretch, I poured my heart into it. In the morning I wrote for Suvudu, usually only eating a very brief breakfast of wheat toast, before then jumping into the book. I would write until late afternoon and by that time I had the shakes from no lunch. After a good dinner out somewhere I would write some more at night before going to bed and begin anew the next day.
Once I finished the first draft, I felt good about it—but something was not right.
I thought it had to do with the book. I thought it had to do with my main character, Bran Ardall, who seemed devoid of personality. I gave the book to Terry Brooks, a close friend and someone I knew would not pull any punches. He read it right quickly. I soon received his comments and suggestions, and while very positive I still had a lot of work to do to make it a “great” book—and I of course want it to be great, not just good.
I spent a solid week thinking about nothing but his thoughts and how I could improve upon The Dark Thorn. I barely left the apartment. I kept away from friends and family as I mostly had for four months. Why the hell did I feel so terrible? Why had it taken me so long to finish the book? Why did I feel like my entire life had crumbled and I had nothing left?
It wasn’t the semi-rejection of the last twelve months of my life. After the first three of fifteen or so rejection letters on my first book, I had overcome the resentment and anger that usually surfaces from such denial.
So what was it?
As it turns out, having asked advice from Patrick Rothfuss, Vicki Pettersson, Tobias Buckell, Chris Evans, Jacqueline Carey, Robert V.S. Redick and Peter V. Brett, it is something that most writers deal with.

At first, when Terry got back to me, I jumped right back into the book to start rewriting but the feeling persisted. Sure, I took a bit of time to analyze what he had to say but I was immediately thinking about how to improve the book using his advice. Yet during that time period the sullen feeling that had made its way from my guts into the rest of me persisted. I decided to go on a walk to think about it, wondering what it could be, needing to find out. While I walked I realized it had nothing to do with the actual craft of writing. Logic made it so. It had to be something else.
After I finished walking the three miles, it hit me.
I felt the way I did not because of the book but because I had denied everything else in my life.
I had let myself go to get the book finished—physically, emotionally, spiritually. This happens with writers of course but I had no idea it was happening to me. The demands of the job place one’s butt in a seat for long months at a time, away from other pursuits. When a writer is trying to break into the marketplace, they feel pressured—sometimes from friends and family but mostly by themselves–to find their niche, be published, to find that validation that eludes so many. I had fallen into a shadowy trap without even trying to claw my way out.
Sadly, author Steven Barnes warned of this problem five years ago at the Maui Writers Retreat and Conference. Steven spent most of the first day talking about the philosophy of writing with his six students and part of that was taking care of one’s health. One must feed all parts of the body and soul, he said, to keep the writer inside alive and healthy. He advocated yoga. He supported keeping up with world events and learning, learning, learning. He believed one should always be reading. He believed quite strongly in keeping all seven chakras in perfect working order. In this way the writer could flourish, be unleashed; in this way, the best writing could be done.
I couldn’t believe what I had done. In pursuit of my dream, I had become the very thing I shouldn’t have been. Like Roland Deschain trying to gain his Dark Tower, I had been consumed by my dream and left a withered man.
This is not something that has only happened to me. I wrote some of my writer friends to gain their advice.
And discovered, to varying degrees, it is something that other writers struggle with as well. I asked them this question:
“How do you maintain a balance and stay healthy outside of writing—physically, emotionally and even spiritually—to gain the best writing possible?”
Patrick Rothfuss, author of The Wise Man’s Fear:

I don’t really stay that healthy. I’m overweight and I don’t get nearly as much exercise as I know I should. Sometimes I don’t leave the house for days at a time….
I’m better at the emotional side of it though. The year or so after the book came out, my whole life changed. Change = stress, and that means despite the success of my book, I was really unhappy a lot of the time.
Part of the problem was that I gave too much to make time for my writing. I gave up teaching, and fencing, and being adviser to the College Feminists. I stopped hanging out with my friends. I stopped playing games and goofing off.
It felt like the responsible thing to do at the time. I was trying to act the way I thought a professional and a grown-up should. But the effect was that I clear-cut my life of everything that made me happy.
Things are better now. I take time off to goof around and watch movies. I spend time with my girlfriend and I’ve been re-establishing contact with my friends. I’m happy and large stress-free, and my writing output has improved because of it.

Chris Evans, author of The Light of Burning Shadows:

I face the double challenge of being both an author and an editor so I sit on my butt twice as long…or something like that. What keeps me sane is going for runs in Central Park. It’s an absolutely glorious feeling to get out on the road and into the zone. I never realized just how much it mattered to me until I was sidelined a while back with injuries and had to stop running. Now that I’m about healed I’m looking forward to hitting the trails again, as are my friends.

Peter V. Brett, author of The Warded Man:

Being a writer can be very draining, physically and emotionally. For one thing, you spend long hours (far longer than when I had an office job!) just sitting in front of a computer typing, bereft of sunlight, exercise, or human contact. For another, you are putting yourself in the shoes of a multitude of imaginary characters as they are put through the emotional wringer. One can’t help but experience some of those emotions vicariously, and it can be exhausting.
On top of that, I work from home in a 2-bedroom apartment, and we have an infant. Pretty much any time I’m not writing or sleeping, I am caring for the baby.
Obviously, this is not a healthy situation, so I make an effort to build in some time for myself by going for walks in Prospect Park, which is practically on my doorstep in Brooklyn. One loop around the park is close to 5 miles, and I try to do at least that much 2-3 times a week, winter, spring, summer, and fall. Usually I will meander around inside the park as well, getting up to 6 or more miles along the wooded path.
In addition to keeping my legs from atrophy, raising my heart rate and getting some vitamin D, this solitary time surrounded by natural beauty allows my thoughts to wander and regain their center.
Ironically, I do some of my best writing on those walks, thumb-tapping on my smart phone as I walk. Thankfully, there are no cars allowed in the park…

Vicki Pettersson, author of City of Souls:

I find that the closer I am to a deadline, and the more intense my writing schedule, the more I need to work out. It’s impossible to put in pain-free twelve hour days if I don’t do something every day. Yet even when things are “normal” I still exercise. It’s as much a part of my life as writing or brushing my teeth, and I’m more mentally healthy if I feel strong in my body too.
As for the rest, two things are vital to my mental and emotional health. Time and space to read—it’s still my ultimate luxury—and hours upon hours with my kidlet. My friends and family are important too. None of them care if I ever write another word as long as I show up to our gatherings happy … and with a bottle of wine.

Robert V.S. Redick, author of The Red Wolf Conspiracy:

In a word, humor. Nothing is as poisonous as stress, and no stress is as insidious as the kind we inflict on ourselves when we forget how to laugh. That, and loved ones–hell for me is not other people, as Sartre would have it; hell is quite simply the absence of love.
Time outdoors helps too—fresh air, movement, the glimpse of a great blue heron once in a while. And good dark chocolate. And campfires. And going barefoot. And dancing hard to something loud and courageous.
Most combinations of these work even better, I find.

Jacqueline Carey, author of Naamah’s Kiss:

One of my mainstays for mental and physical health is a thrice-weekly jog that takes me on a scenic route along the Kalamazoo River, through a patch of woods and across a meadow. I love watching the seasons change, seeing geese and hawks and herons along the way, rabbits and the occasional deer.
On the social side, spending quality time with friends and family, wining, dining and conversing, keeps me from living too much in my own head.

Sean Williams, author of Star Wars: The Force Unleashed:

(1) I make sure I take time off. Unless I’m under a real deadline crunch, I try never to work nights—or if I do, never more than an hour or two. I make sure I see people on a regular basis. It’s all too easy to be a hermit, for someone with my temperament, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s bad for me in the long run. Having a wonderful family now has helped keep me sane&mdashg;even when they’re driving me crazy. As for spiritually, I’m an atheist, which seems to me the healthiest approach to our wonderfully bizarre world.
(2) I go for several hour-long walks a week, and I try to do some weights, but that’s about it. As the 40s creep over me, I’ll be looking to up the workouts a little in the near future. I make sure I eat well, but spread is inevitable. That’s the only thing I worry about, in terms of my physical health. Touchwood!

Tobias Buckell, author of Sly Mongoose:

I used to lift and run. Lifting kept the muscle on, running kept the body fat percentage in line. Back in November I had a pulmonary embolism and stress on my heart, so I’m no longer allowed to do either. I’m encouraged to take slow, steady walks, so I’ve been out at least every other day for a long, slow walk, which gets me away from the keyboard and is good. My goal is to get to one long walk a day, and be allowed to lift weights again. I never though I’d say I was looking forward to running, but I can’t weight for the day when my cardiologist says I’m allowed to jog or run, but it probably won’t be for another 6 months yet, sadly. So if you have the capability to run, consider yourself lucky: and do it! Nothing makes you more aware of how amazing it is to have something than to lose it, I guess.
Having had a pulmonary embolism (blood clots that got into my lungs), I’m more than unusually aware of the fact that people who sit down for most of their job are at risk for blood clots. So writers in particular, consider making sure you get up and move about once an hour or so. Sitting down causes blood to pool in the legs, and pooled blood clots. The same advice they give to travelers on long plane flights goes to writers.
It’s something I put a strong emphasis on now. I never want to experience a pulmonary embolism again, and it’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Wow. I doubt I will ever write longer than an hour before getting up and going for a jog. Thanks, Tobias! What you have gone through should encourage all of us writers to be a bit more aware of the balance needed in our lives to live as fruitful writers.
The replies I received from them spoke volumes to me—and reaffirmed exactly what I was feeling. Thank you all for offering your personal lives in such a way.
For the last month I have been focused on regaining what I had lost. I’ve put the book mostly aside, although I have been rewriting in flits and flurries. Instead I am focused elsewhere to fix the damage done. Every day I go to the gym. Every day I make good meals. Every day I try to think up something witty of import for Suvudu—failing most of the time but every once in a while… Every night I go for a walk around the lake. Every day I read from whatever book has been sent my way by the publishers—this one The Other Lands by David Anthony Durham. Every day I seek the wonder in the world that I had somehow completely forgotten about—and which led to a lop-sided and ultimately lacking life.
If you are a new writer trying to break in, take heed from my mistake.
Writing should only ever be one part of who you are. Your health is for forever.
Take care of yourself, balancing writing with your physical, emotional and spiritual well-being.
If you do that, I promise one thing.
Your best writing will follow.