Creative work has inertia.
It’s why continuing to write from one day to the next often feels manageable—even easy, once you’re in the groove—but picking it up after a break? That feels like climbing Everest in slippers.
This isn’t some personal failing. It’s not because you “lack discipline” or you’re “not a real writer.” It’s physics. Objects in motion stay in motion. Objects at rest… well, you know how that one ends.
The Inertia Principle: Macro and Micro
Creative inertia works on multiple scales.
On the micro level, you’re cruising along, writing happily—then you stop to check email, or get up for a snack, or because someone knocks on your door and asks if you’ve seen the cat. Ten minutes later, you return to your screen, and suddenly, writing feels like dragging a wet mattress uphill.
What happened? Inertia. You interrupted your forward motion, and now you’ve got to push through the resistance of starting again.
On the macro level, the inertia compounds. Miss a day of writing, and it’s not too bad—you can usually pick up again. Miss a week, and you start to feel a little rusty. Miss a month… and the resistance feels monumental.
I missed over a year, while dealing with cancer. Getting back into writing wasn’t just hard—it was brutal. That first book post-recovery was a marathon of the most severe difficulty. It took nearly another full year before writing became a habit again. Every day felt like starting over.
The Strategy That Gets You Moving Again
The trick is to notice the sensation of inertia. That subtle (or sometimes not-so-subtle) tug of reluctance. The resistance that shows up right before you write—or after a pause.
Just naming it—”Ah, there’s inertia”—can take a lot of its power away.
Then? Try Just Starting. My strategy for getting words down no matter how reluctant you feel. It works on both levels of inertia: the quick breaks and the long gaps. You don’t need to feel inspired or ready. You just need to begin—for two minutes, or one sentence, or a few lines of messy prose.
Because the moment you’re moving again, everything gets easier.
Your Turn
Next time you feel that sluggish, heavy pull—when the words aren’t flowing and you’re tempted to walk away—recognize it for what it is: inertia. Not failure.
Then Just Start.
And if it helps you get more writing done than usual (or even just some writing done), let me know. I’d love to hear how it worked for you.
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My long hiatus (in my case seven months) arose from a plethora of the non-mythical “other things” that, somehow, are required to take precedence over doing the thing I most want to do. In other words, life happened. Nothing as serious as beating cancer to the floor (congratulations on that!), but important enough. And, as you say, after a while it seems too hard to pick up where you left off. I had a jolt of reawakening recently, hauled out the piece I had been working on, and dug in again. I finished the last few pages, re-read it (obsessively) several times, and then steeled myself for the Big Step: I sent it to an editor. Time will tell if I’ve completely lost my mojo or not, but I think this was a big moment for me. It *was* hard. It felt as if I had been channeling Sisyphus pushing that boulder up the hill. But I stuck with it for those few days, took a deep breath, and then jumped. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t a particularly big deal. But it did feel Very Big at the time. It’s hard to pick up the reins again, and none of us should ever forget that it is WORK. To keep it going along better, more smoothly, or just at all, it’s important to keep working. “Put butt in chair” was the advice I got years ago; today’s lesson: “Put butt in chair Every Day.” I’m going to try to do that. And thanks, Tracy, for the kick in the behind that we all occasionally need.
So glad it helped, Marilyn!
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