Why Every Story—and Every Soul—Needs Space to Breathe
It’s official: I’m halfway through the first part of the first draft of my novel.
For the past five months, I’ve spent every week writing chapters, revising them, and submitting them to my Thursday night critique group. I developed a routine—and fell in love with the book.
The process felt like being on a train moving down the track with great purpose. Fueled by momentum, I didn’t want to stop. But once I completed the last chapter of Part One (this novel has two parts), I found it hard to slow the train.
But I knew I had to.
I had to pause, set the writing aside, and give it time to breathe—to simmer on the back burner. To distance myself from any attachment to the outcome.
Let me tell you why.
The Importance of the Pause
We meditate to get still. We go out in nature to get away from the noise of daily life. In the quiet, we hear ourselves think. We reconnect with our intuition.
The creative process is no different.
Stephen King famously puts his first drafts away for six weeks before revising. He works on something else in the meantime, giving his mind the chance to reset. That distance builds perspective.
I think about how often I’ve had to do the same in life—step away from a situation to see it clearly. The more emotionally attached I am, whether to a story, a relationship, or a decision, the more distance I need in order to gain perspective.
Thanks to the Hamilton County Public Library’s affordable printing services, I printed my manuscript and tucked it away in an old file cabinet.
And now, I wait.
Sort of.
I knew that if I didn’t give myself other projects, I’d go marching right back to the manuscript. My goal is to leave it untouched for a month—out of sight, out of mind.
In the meantime, I’m happily returning to my Middle Grade series, Animals of Justice (more on that in the future).
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Do Not Rush the Sacred
In today’s world, there’s constant pressure to produce—quickly and often. For authors, that can look like rushing a book to publication to keep up with expectations. But slowing down is not only valuable—it’s an act of defiance.
To slow down is to honor the process. It’s a message to the Muse, to the Universe, that the work is sacred and deserves to unfold in its own time. When we make that choice, we remind ourselves—and the world—that it’s the art that matters most, not the speed of its production.
Rushing the sacred rarely produces the best results. Authenticity and truth can’t be forced.
Good art needs time. Stories need time. Like plants, animals, and humans, our creations need space to find their purpose.
No one gets to decide how long the creative process should take—not even me.
As much as I’d love to hurry up and share this book with you—because I love it, because it feels so relevant—I know that to do so would rob it of its gestation period. It would feel unnatural.
There’s a difference between what the mind wants and what the soul needs. Creativity comes from the soul, and the soul seeks stillness to feel safe enough to grow.
Our stories need that too.
It’s incredible what beauty and discovery can emerge from waiting—from stepping back and allowing perspective to form. Only through detachment can we truly see our work. That clarity is what revision requires.
In revision, we become both reader and editor. Discernment can’t happen when we’re charging ahead at full speed.
Stop. Pause. Reflect.
In time, the story, the art, the relationship, or that decision will reveal itself. All it needs is space—and time—to become what it’s meant to be.
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Reflection
What in your life are you trying to rush?
What could benefit from a little detachment?
Feel free to leave a comment and stay connected!
Blog written by guest blogger, Jay VanLandingham
You can learn more and follow Jay at his website, here.