Sometimes in craft talks, books, readings, or workshops, an author will discuss (or be asked by an audience member) about their writing routine: what time of day they write, how many words they strive to pen, whether they use yellow legal pads following Toni Morrison’s method or type everything on a computer (or a typewriter, for the Wendell Berrys among us). While these writers may simply be sharing what works for them and is their process, readers and listeners sometimes instead take this as advice for ourselves. Advice that, for the 75% of us Americans with chronic illnesses (not to mention writers living beyond US borders), is impossible to emulate.
As someone with a Type-A personality, I print and fill out to-do checklists roughly three weeks at a time. Most days have the same basic things: work, take my son to school, garden/gym/physical therapy depending on the season and my pain level, and book. I know, I live a fascinating life. Sometimes I include “grocery shop” or “pick up meds” for a little added excitement.
Some days, of course, with a full-to-the-brim inbox and meetings, the book box remains unchecked. However, it remains unchecked on other days due to the unpredictability of migraines, allergic reactions, and crippling fatigue. Often, I plan to write what sounds like a manageable 500 words per day. On good days, I may write far more, knowing that tomorrow or the next day or the day after that, I might be stuck in bed with my glorious sleep mask, heating pad, and a stack of pillows that make the “Princess and the Pea” protagonist envious.
Now some of you may be reading this and thinking, “That kind of rest sounds magical! Sign me up!” Well, given how many people will experience even a temporary disability in their lifetime, you may well have your chance. However, this rest simply provides a break from otherwise nonstop pain and it doesn’t get rid of fatigue. What it does do, though, is it gets in the way of checking that book box.
So, since many of us chronically ill folks have the penchant to overdo it on our good days and wind up paying the price in subsequent bad days, how do we find a balance that allows us to work on our novels, essays, and poetry without pushing ourselves to the brink? I’ve included a few of my favorite techniques and considerations below.
1. Be mindful of how and where you write.
When writing my dissertation, I noticed an uptick in migraines. I imagined it was due to the OMG-I-have-to-write-a-whole-ass-dissertation stress. Or the strain of writing a dissertation while parenting and losing my father after just making it through the emersion of a global pandemic. These were certainly contributing factors, I’m sure. However, I began observing that tense trapezius muscles triggered the neck tension that often led to my migraines. And what was making my traps tight? My desk setup.
The chair was too low, the desk a tad too high, and this was causing my arms to be at an unnatural angle when typing. This setup might not have been terrible for responding to a few quick emails, but for a dissertation (or a novel, I imagine), it was a recipe for disaster.
Of course, not everyone can afford to replace their desk or office chair, which would be the ideal solution, but even using books to heighten a laptop or monitor, or adding pillows to one’s seat or even repurposing various objects as footstools can be a big help.
2. Use the technology you have at hand.
Due to my hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which contributes to my migraines, I also regularly get tendonitis in my left wrist that can last for days or weeks and sometimes months. Thankfully, I’m right-handed, but of course, need both hands to type.
This is where voice-to-text or even making audio or video recordings comes in handy. While it may be tricky to write entire novels this way, it’s useful for outlining or even for remembering ideas when you’re away from your writing space. For instance, I often use voice-to-text to take writing-related notes or possible lines of future poems in my Google Keep app while I’m out running errands. I wish I knew why some of my best ideas happen while grocery shopping or driving to appointments, but at least I can be prepared.
Even if you’re having a good day physically, life itself gets busy and we may not always have the time to write much when initially inspired. Screenshotting CFPs for upcoming publishing opportunities and taking pictures with our phones of things that inspire us when we’re out and about are also ways of using common technology to aid us in our writing lives.
3. Take frequent breaks and LEAVE YOURSELF notes.
These may seem like separate suggestions, but they’re really intertwined. Often, when writing, we want to keep going as the ideas flow through us and onto the page or screen. However, after hours in a chair, our joints might get stiff, our muscles ache, and our eyes decide to revolt from the strain.
That said, taking frequent breaks to move, stretch, or attend to other tasks might risk us losing our trains of thought or our inspiration. To counter this, I want to share one of the best pieces of writing advice I got from Dr. Karen Kilcup, one of my dissertation committee members who is also a award-winning poet. She said, “leave yourself notes” for where you plan to pick back up. This might be something as simple as inserting a comment on the page with the ideas or scenes you plan to tackle next, or writing down notes on a Post-it near your workspace.
In addition to these notes, a general outline (if you’re working on a larger work, such as a chapter, novel, essay, article, or poetry collection) can also help you remember where your writing is headed once you return to the page. Outlines can certainly change as the process and story unfold, but they are helpful to see how scenes and ideas intertwine and build on each other and provide momentum to keep going, and many of us already create them.
Not only does outlining and note-keeping jog your memory between breaks, but it’s immensely helpful if you must take a few days or weeks off from writing due to symptom flares. In addition to feeling physically awful, at least you won’t be adding “Now where was I???” to the struggle.
4. Build out realistic timelines and pace yourself.
This piece of advice is tricky because it requires you to essentially plan two deadlines: the ideal one and the longest-possible one based upon external deadlines (CFP deadlines, contract deadlines, etc.) and chronic illness considerations. Of course, there is more wiggle room if no external deadline exists (for instance, if you’re working toward completing a full manuscript to shop around), but I’ve found that for many of us, setting some sort of firm deadline often works better than a nebulous “future.”
I use this dual-deadline setup to figure out weekly writing goals. Notice I didn’t say daily writing goals. This choice is important for those of us with chronic illnesses because, as I mentioned earlier, we’ll likely have days, and perhaps even weeks, when we cannot write. I start with a weekly goal, but you could easily use a monthly writing goal if that better meets your needs. Depending on the project, I might use a word count goal or a number-of-poems goal, since I typically write creative nonfiction, poetry, and academic scholarship.
Here’s how the dual-deadline works: let’s make the math easy and say I have a 6,000-word academic article due in six months. That equals 1,000 words per month, or 250 words per week. Of course, I’ll also need time to research, so if I’m making a weekly schedule, I will plan days for writing and days for research (with some obvious overlap). Essentially, though, 250 words per week is my realistic timeline.
Now, ideally, I may want to finish sooner so that I have extra time for revision, or maybe I have other upcoming projects, or a big trip. Let’s say ideally I want to finish this piece in three months. That’s 2,000 words a month, or 500 words per week.
Using these two deadlines then, one ideal and one more realistic, I will set a writing goal of 250-500 words per week. Obviously, this might be longer or shorter depending on your particular project, or I could even swap out poems. For example, if I want to have 90 poems for a full collection, I would use that as my starting number instead of 6,000 words, but the math would work the same way.
Having two deadlines sounds really complicated, but it builds in time for rest, migraines, high-pain days, and helps encourage us to give ourselves grace, which brings me to the fifth suggestion…
5. Give yourself grace and remember that it’s not a competition.
I struggle with this one. In writing circles, many of us know lots of other writers, and we see those writers publishing, winning awards, and running or attending workshops left and right.
Thanks to mast cell activation syndrome, I am severely airborne allergic to tree nuts and peanuts. These symptoms make it impossible to fly safely, so I am largely limited to events and conferences within driving distance (and yes, I know that arguably most places could be “driving distance,” but since excessive driving triggers migraines, I must also consider how long I’ll be on the road). These potential reactions also mean that I cannot typically attend workshops that are catered or where food is served in close proximity to learning spaces. It means, too, that I am often unable to engage in camaraderie with fellow writers around the lunch or dinner table. Not only does this mean I’m not able to attend or engage fully in such workshops, but also should the opportunity arise, I would be unable to instruct at them. In thinking about places with tree nuts being airborne, coffee shops, and potential reading venues, such as bookstores that incorporate coffee shops, can also be off-limits. It can be easy to dwell on these potential missed opportunities to learn and connect with larger writing communities, and sometimes I certainly fall into FOMA.
That said, there are more and more opportunities for online workshops, such as Hindman’s Makery classes; online reading opportunities; and plenty of venues, especially public spaces like regional gardens, libraries, and museums, are often free of these airborne allergens as well. And while it would be great to network with writers from all over, I’ve found some of the most supportive folks in or near my current home in the foothills of North Carolina. I’ve realized that attending local readings, nearby literary festivals, and afternoon workshops held within driving distance offer ample connections and learning experiences.
Additionally, I’ve learned that letting people know about my limitations is usually met with thanks and understanding. Most people don’t want to accidentally send someone to the hospital and are generally appreciative if I bring up in a workshop, “Hey, I know we’re meeting around lunchtime. If y’all brought granola or a PB&J, could you eat it outside?” It can also help to bring backup snacks to share. I know many of us with chronic illnesses don’t want to feel like a burden or imposition, but advocating for ourselves both keeps us safe and makes these chronic illnesses more visible to the larger writing community. You might even find solidarity among fellow chronically ill writers!
Read more of Jess’ work here at Reckon.
Jessica Cory is a settler scholar and the editor of Appalachian Journal: A Regional Studies Review, published since 1972 at Appalachian State University. She holds a PhD in Native American, African American, and environmental literatures from the University of North Carolina at Greensboro and is also the editor of Mountains Piled upon Mountains: Appalachian Nature Writing in the Anthropocene (WVU Press, 2019) and the co-editor (with Laura Wright) of Appalachian Ecocriticism and the Paradox of Place (UGA Press, 2023). Her creative and scholarly writings have been published in the North Carolina Literary Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Northern Appalachia Review, and other fine publications. Originally from southeastern Ohio, she currently lives in western North Carolina.