Writing around the edges
Paper Trails #02: On playing the long game + building a creative rhythm
Paper Trails is a behind-the-scenes glimpse into my creative non-fiction projects, a place to explore brand story, life writing and the rhythms of the creative process.
Mining for meaning
Recently, I wrote about returning to writing, and over the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to make room for a dusty little project. The plan? To blow the cobwebs off those early words. But I still can’t bring myself to read them, page to page, chapter to chapter. I’ve only got as far as copying and pasting all of the strands into a single document and occasionally glancing at the structure.
The truth is, it’s become a behemoth in my mind. I know it will likely be easier to untangle than I imagine, but the subject matter is tricky — still raw, still close. And yet, what I plan to share explores how we can nurture our curiosity and creativity. Less heartbreak and sadness, more beauty and wonder. But to get there, I need to go through the bare bits. Someone once described it as “mining for meaning.”
When we had our last session before my final trip to London to complete my IVF round, my writing mentor gave me a tip for coming back to the project when the time was right. And that was to create distance by treating myself as a character in a novel.
Having had a taste of this recently, it’s opened up a tunnel of thinking, which excites me because, then, I can get back to the work of shaping and chopping.
While I hope to make it to the end, my aim is to be with the project for now.
The long game
The act of making space for this initial dabbling has reminded me just how hard it is to commit to creativity around raising a family and running a business. But between the push and the pull of the holidays, a writing practice is taking shape.
They say books take time — but how long? Some writers produce first drafts in a few focused months, choosing to join challenges or bootcamps, but often stress that it took years to process the story before they could begin. Others stretch the process over a decade or more, writing between jobs, raising children, and slowly pulling at their experiences along the way.
Sometimes, the beauty is found in picking up the pieces. And many spend several years crafting a solid manuscript, only to spend just as long revising and rejigging to find the true shape of their story.
The comfort I take from this is that there’s no standard. Few writing projects follow a strict timeline — they follow your readiness, your rhythm.
For me, it’s about finding pockets of time to enjoy the process.
Building a rhythm
Showing up to write this summer has been tricky in practice, but I’m continuing in the spirit of sharing tiny fragments and seeing how my writing style lands.
The accountability is needed, which is why I joined a couple of online writing spaces. Cassie Wilkins runs a monthly writing circle, usually with a theme, but it’s also an hour to let the ink flow. The next one is tomorrow, so do check it out.
I’m also midway through a weekly writing course called The Chain with Lindsay Johnstone, which is helping me return to topics I’ve been avoiding. It reminds me of the 30 days I spent embracing rejection — like a muscle I’m training. So I continue, awkwardness and all. I even submitted the first piece I shared to a writing competition, and honestly, just hitting send felt like a win.
To continue with my proposal, I need to build the courage to put my words out there. Not the branding and business kind, but the life writing kind. So this still feels a little strange for me.
Working with my writing mentor is turning the trepidation into excitement, but it’s early days. Read on to see how I’m carving out space through a mini digi detox, plus a peek at my latest flash memoir piece.
