A contemplative exercise: If writing was a person, what would it be like? What would your relationship with it be like?

For example, are you in a relationship with writing only because you hope it will bring you success and wealth?

Is writing more like a friend, a spouse, or an acquaintance? Or is it something else—such as an enemy, a stranger, a coworker, a boss, or a client?

Are you constantly available for writing? Do you text and call it incessantly, almost suffocating it? How responsive is it to you?

Where do you spend time with writing? Do you invite it into your home? Do you attend events together? 

Do you treat the work you make, including the blog posts, articles, and books—which you create with writing—almost like children? While some of them might make you proud, and others disappoint you, do you love them all the same and unconditionally? Are you interested in learning from them?

Do you care about what other people think of your relationship with writing—and your blog posts, articles and books—more than your actual relationship and your actual work? Does it matter to you that people are impressed with your writing? 

What do you need from writing? What does your writing need from you? How often do you think about one compared to the other? How much do you take from writing, how much do you give?

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed,” the saying goes. Getting cut is painful. Giving blood is noble. It can save lives. Whoever said this—people think it was Ernest Hemingway—felt they gave writing the physical essence of their lives. More importantly, there was nothing to it, it was a simple matter.

Is your relationship with writing working? Do you need a break from writing? Is it asking too much of you, that you’re unable to give in the moment? Or can you negotiate with it—so that it supports and energizes the other parts of your life?