On contentment as a writer

flourishing, languishing & everything in-between

flourish: grow or develop in a healthy or vigorous way; languish: lose or lack vitality; grow weak or feeble. —OxfordLanguages

At the height of the pandemic, Adam Grant wrote a viral article for the New York Times about languishing and how to move beyond it. While a lot of us are back in the world doing whatever it is we do for work and enjoying whatever it is we enjoy for entertainment, the concept of losing or lacking vitality is something most creative people can relate to.

Languishing as a writer could be equated to block or self-doubt. It’s simply a lack of impetus or sustainability when it comes to our creative output and passion. Of course, many of us know the joy of flourishing as well — those moments when we are full of motivation and swimming in oxytocin. We feel connected, and the journey of writing takes us toward the unknown and introduces us to new sides of ourselves and the world.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao

While flourishing is the ultimate feeling I used to equate to my own sense of contentment (or, dare I say, happiness) as a writer, I wonder what meaning we can find in the languishing times and why they happen. I also wonder what both states mean to our evolution as creative beings and how we can leverage them in ways that don’t lead us to the trappings of self-aggrandizement or self-doubt.

Recently, an agent asked to read my memoir-in-essays, which I’ve been working on for the last few months.

For me, agent bites are not new. At one time, an agent represented We Arrive Uninvited but wanted me to repackage it as a YA novel, which I did not want to do. I no longer have an agent, but the prospect of having a partner who specializes in the business of writing would be nice (I can be this for others, but I too need support).

Accordingly, having an agent bite feels like a little nudge to produce, and it’s made me realize how little I’ve been writing while promoting my new book (the last event for a while is next Thursday at Two Dollar Radio). I’ve found my energy to sit and write has been faltering for sheer lack of time. And while I love the public readings, discussions, and signings, could this mean my creative/productive self is in a state of languishing?

Does one area of life need to languish while another area flourishes?

I admit that I want to feel content most of the time. I want to be able to navigate emotions and keep a healthy detachment from the work I do, but I also want to feel vital, especially creatively, because this is my identity.

Maybe this creative languishing then is yet another part of the creative process. And if so, we should honor it. Not try to skip over it or push ourselves to do it all.

After thinking about this for some time (and journaling my thoughts), I have come to the conclusion that being a writer (for me!) is not about flourishing or languishing, feeling good (pretending to feel good), or, as Grant described it, feeling “blah” about a particular act of work, output, or routine. Neither state has to be permanent.

True contentment might mean allowing space for both.

Flourishing and languishing can just be what they are, and the writer’s job is to observe and question and use all experiences to deepen the human connectivity of her work. To flourish usually equates to productivity and high motivation, whereas languishing may mean we’re slowing down a bit, but it could also mean we’re seeking change. An evolution of the creative process, perhaps. To languish might be seen as a signpost that we’re ready for something new and different.

So while my output is slowed, I’m excited for what’s next. And if the agent relationship is meant to be, well, wonderful. If not, I’m still content to flourish and languish. I like the idea of this flow of movement, after all. It feels natural.

xo Jen