Some years don’t just challenge us—they change us.
They test our energy, our hope, our sense of direction. They leave us quieter, more cautious, sometimes unsure if we’re still the same person who once wrote freely and dreamed boldly.
And yet—here you are. Still writing. Or trying to. Or wanting to want to.
That alone takes courage.
Hard Years Leave Marks We Can’t Always See
After a hard year, writing can feel different.
The words don’t come as easily. The spark feels dimmer. The stories feel heavier—or harder to reach.
Sometimes the difficulty isn’t a lack of ideas.
It’s grief. Exhaustion. Survival mode.
When life demands everything from you—your body, your emotions, your attention—creativity often has to wait. And that doesn’t mean you failed. It means you endured.
Continuing to Write Is an Act of Bravery
There’s a quiet bravery in opening a notebook after a year that broke your routines.
In showing up when motivation is gone.
In writing small, imperfect things instead of grand ones.
In choosing expression over silence—even when the voice shakes.
Writing after a hard year isn’t about discipline or productivity.
It’s about trust.
Trusting that your voice still exists.
Trusting that your stories are patient.
Trusting that you’re allowed to begin again, as many times as you need.
You Don’t Have to Write the Same Way You Used To
One of the hardest lessons after a difficult year is accepting that the old version of your writing life may not fit anymore.
And that’s okay.
Maybe you write fewer words now.
Maybe you write differently—journals instead of chapters, fragments instead of scenes.
Maybe your creativity shows up in cycles instead of daily routines.
None of that means you’re doing it wrong.
It means you’re listening to yourself.
Rest Is Part of the Creative Process
Rest doesn’t erase your identity as a writer.
Pauses don’t mean the story is gone.
Silence doesn’t mean you’ve lost your voice.
Often, rest is where the next chapter is quietly forming—beneath the surface, away from pressure, waiting for gentler conditions.
If You’re Still Here, You’re Still a Writer
If you’re thinking about writing—even wistfully—you’re still connected to it.
If you’re writing a sentence, a paragraph, a list of thoughts—you’re still writing.
If you’re surviving and dreaming at the same time—that’s creativity in its rawest form.
You don’t need to prove your courage with word counts or finished drafts.
Sometimes the bravest thing is simply not giving up on the part of you that wants to tell stories.
A Gentle Reminder
You are allowed to write slowly.
You are allowed to write softly.
You are allowed to write imperfectly.
After a hard year, continuing to write—in any form—isn’t weakness.
It’s courage.
And that courage deserves to be honored.
Happy Writing ^_^
Sara's Writing Sanctuary 