Most of us start writing because it’s something we love to do. With practice and patience, what starts out as a hobby turns into a passion and then into a career, part-time or otherwise. And while that comes with its own rewards, there are also downsides to having our hobby become our work. The answer is right there—a hobby is something we engage in in order to take a break from or relax after work. When that relaxing, joyful thing becomes a source of income, a place of labor, then what are we going to do to wind down?
Writing requires effort. When it becomes work, we reason that if we’re going to put in so much effort, we might as well get paid for it. While that doesn’t happen to everyone, it’s still a thought that’s present in the background. Writing just for fun suddenly isn’t possible, because it could be work instead. Or it’s just work, because after writing professionally all day, the brain’s too tired to do writing that’s unrelated, that’s just for our own joy.
Which is why writers need hobbies other than writing. When we switch to doing something different, something that demands different skills from us—or demands not much skill at all, such as coloring in drawings—we’re increasing our chances of finding creative solutions.
During writing or editing, our brain is focused, concentrating all its efforts on the task at hand. But just like other parts of the body, our brains need rest. The brain actually never stops working, but when we take a break to just take a walk or do something routine like folding laundry, it gets a breather. This is when it puts things on the back burner, where the problems we’re trying to tackle when focused—a plot hole, a tricky bit of dialogue, the best place to introduce our antagonist—simmer slowly, taking their time to come to a boil. In other words, it’s when we move away from a problem that we hit upon some solution.
And to do that we need something that we can do just for fun. Something that’s not attached to productivity, to capital. Which is what hobbies are all about.
Knitting, drawing, cycling, scrapbooking, playing the guitar—they’re not just hobbies, but also opportunities to observe the world anew (such as through collecting a variety of leaves by drawing them in detail), to develop discipline and learn field-specific knowledge (such as all the different types of knots and knits), to understand how those in other professions think or work (such as when trying to compose a new tune on your guitar).
And this variety in our learning, which comes not from reading and writing but from doing, from living, allows us to add more richness to our writing. The world reveals itself to us in new ways. We’re able to think from the perspectives of people—and, therefore, characters—who are not us. The more varied our knowledge, the greater the number of permutations and combinations of knowledge our brain can create to increase our creativity. By keeping ourselves limited to words, we limit the quality and depth of those words.
But even if our newfound love for say, crocheting or gardening doesn’t lead us to directly improve our writing by enabling us to create different characters and plots, hobbies are still worthwhile: they nurture our physical and mental well-being. We need to get up from our desks not just for the sake of our brains but also for our bodies. We need to stretch and bend and move and jump whenever (and however much) we can.
The subjects we write about can drain us, even if they were imaginary, such as fairy-elf border conflicts, and not just set in the real world, such as the huge losses caused by unseasonal rains for small farmers. Writing can be and is a form of service, but in order to serve well, we also need to take care of ourselves. And in a day when most of our time may be devoted to doing our work and providing care to our families, hobbies offer a chance to wind down (and this can be done collectively, too, such as through knitting clubs).
Most of all, though, we need hobbies because as loyal as we may be to the writing life, we also need something else to love. Otherwise, the work may lead us to falling out of love with writing. Effort will always be needed, and sometimes even long, painful, draining hours.
But if we’re always distant, always focused on productivity, and output, and numbers, be they word counts or payment-per-word, we may risk becoming averse to writing. The negative feelings of work that we have to push ourselves to do get associated with the thing that used to bring joy to us. When that happens, there might come a day when suddenly, we don’t want to write anymore. Or we’re saving every word, reluctant to throw anything away, worrying ourselves about getting everything right, perfect.
This can lead to perfectionism, to aversion, and even to quitting. Even if that quitting lasts months rather than a lifetime, that’s still a long time away from something that we usually cannot live without. I’ve been there and it was painful—returning to the page even more so. But I returned because I loved writing and I found that I could do it if I remembered that I was not just a writer. I was a person who writes, a person who loves writing, but also a person who loves practicing the guitar, knitting little projects, scrapbooking, cooking, and going on walks. When the writing feels difficult, I put down my pen and pick up the guitar or some needles. When I miss words, I go back to the page again.
But to come back to writing, I need to leave first—and I can do that because I’ve found other things to love.
Bio: Ratika Deshpande is a writer from India. Her work has appeared in Authors Publish, Reactor Magazine, the Brevity Blog, and other platforms.
