Give Yourself Credit for Showing Up

February 6, 2025 | By | Reply More

by Raquel Drosos

“Never stop creating.”

This is what I write above my signature in every book I autograph. But for a long stretch last year, I stopped following my own advice—and found myself in a bad place. 

Let me back up. I’m the author of two novels: Games of Chance, a coming-of-age family saga, and Like a Mom, a work of women’s fiction about creativity and parenthood. I had the idea for Like a Mom while I was revising Games of Chance—so for twelve years, I was constantly working on a story. I didn’t have to question what to write; it seemed like my well of inspiration would never dry up.

Until it did.

When I finished Like a Mom, I didn’t know what to write next. I tried several novel plotlines that didn’t grab me, wrote pages and pages of trash, and felt like a failure every time I sat down to write. My writing time—previously my favorite time of day—became something I dreaded. I decided to stop writing entirely until I had a great idea—one that wouldn’t make writing feel like a waste of time. 

Fellow writers, you know this was a terrible decision. Inspiration is born from working; not practicing writing is a sure way not to have ideas. For months I went on with my life, skirting around the empty space writing used to occupy, growing more and more irritable and prone to bouts of sadness. Where was my creativity and why had it abandoned me? Hadn’t I been good to it in the past? One morning I was supposed to be going for a run, but instead I was complaining about this to my husband—again. I’d said the same things to him so many times that I was getting sick of my own voice. “It’s not fair,” I said. “Why am I the one who’s stuck? All my author friends are churning out a book a year and traveling to glamorous destinations to promote them and sharing snippets of their brilliant WIPs online, and I haven’t made progress in months. Something is deeply wrong with me. I’ll never write anything again!”

My husband, armed with the wisdom of a non-artist, remained calm. “What you’re doing now isn’t working,” he said. “It’s time for a new strategy. Go for a run and then we’ll figure it out.”

I grumbled the whole way out the door, but he was right—exercising always makes me feel better. As I ran, I realized something. For a decade, I’ve been running four times a week without questioning it. It’s a habit; it’s something I do even when I’m not in the mood, because I know it relieves my stress. When I finish running, I don’t analyze how it went; I’m happy I showed up and got it done. But I didn’t always have such a positive attitude; I used to berate myself after every imperfect workout (you can refer to Emilia, my obsessive runner from Games of Chance, for a glimpse of this.) What changed my mindset was being forced to give up running during my high-risk pregnancy with my daughter. For those nine months, I missed running every day—and when I finally went for my first postpartum run, I was overwhelmed with gratitude just to make it a lap around the track. I’m so glad I get to be here, I kept thinking, reveling in the air moving through my nose and the searing in my lungs as they expanded. I don’t care how far or how fast I go. Thank you, universe, for letting me run!

I haven’t battled with myself over a workout since.

Maybe, I thought after complaining to my husband, I could apply the running principle to writing. What if I sat down at my computer every day and said, “I’m so glad I get to be here” and “Thank you, universe, for letting me write”? What if, instead of worrying about whether my writing was good or whether I’d been productive enough, I gave myself credit for showing up? I need writing in my life, just like I need running, and that should be enough to justify the hours I spend doing it. It was time to stop trying to measure my success—to stop comparing myself to other writers—and allow myself to write for the joy of it. 

From that day on, I made writing a habit again. I started waking up early and writing whatever came out (trash included.) I used writing prompts I found online. I listened to my favorite songs and wrote what I imagined was the story behind them. When I was out of ideas, I journaled about what I was feeling—anything to keep putting words on paper. It didn’t seem like I was getting anywhere, but I was staying in the zone, staying in shape, for the day I would start my next book. 

It’s been over a year since I finished Like a Mom, and I’m finally working on a new novel. Some mornings, I produce only a handful of awkward sentences that get deleted the next day—but I try not to despair. It’s part of the process. I know that the worst writing session is better than no writing at all, and that the only way to sustain a creative life for the long term is to keep showing up.

***

My bio:

Raquel Drosos writes character-driven fiction with an Italian-American spin. She is the author of the novels Like a Mom and Games of Chance. She is also a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association (WFWA.) Raquel grew up in New Jersey and still lives there with her husband and their two wildly imaginative children. Find out more on https://raqueldrosos.com/.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/raqueldrosos/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100087194079960 

Like a Mom 

“I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

Twenty-six-year-old Gemma Cimino grew up without her own mother, but she’s learned about motherhood from her warmhearted Italian aunts and the intelligent women she’s befriended at the boutique law firm where she works. Gemma is also pouring her heart into her second novel in the hopes of becoming a published writer. Then she falls in love with Luke Reddin, a rock musician and divorced dad with primary custody of his two sons. Because of Luke, Gemma is thrown headfirst into parenthood, and it’s not what she expected. She and Luke struggle to pursue art while raising kids—and their priorities clash when they hear surprising news from Luke’s ex-wife. Gemma must decide what role she plays in Luke’s life and how much she’s willing to sacrifice to have a family.

Buy link: https://raqueldrosos.com/ 

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