Start with the Small Moments...

How to Re-Start Your Writing After a Break

It’s January 6th as I write this. In the magical Southwest of England, there’s frost on the ground that’s been icy all day. This morning’s temperature was -7 celsius when I drove down country roads to the gym. All the roads here are country roads. It’s one of the things I love about my location - all the roads are green! Except today, when they are white and glittering.

Outside, the sun has dropped below the horizon and it’s getting dark. The light is certainly returning, but we have a few more weeks of long nights ahead until Imbolc and the Aries Equinox. That means more time to see the stars. More moonlight than daylight, perhaps.

This is the time for deep dreaming.

It’s the final day of the Epiphany Oracles - the Days Out of Time that belong neither to the new year nor the old. The liminal days that were added to the calendar to make it fit with manipulated time.

Capricorn Season, Yule, invites us to dream deeply with the Earth and Stars.

If you’re not feeling ready for back-to-business, especially with the world as it is, and you would rather be writing through this threshold of liminality - you are not alone. The Bear dreams deep in the belly of the cave.

So how do you re-start your writing after the festive break, and how do you weave your creative practice within all the external responsibilities that are vying for your renewed attention?

Start with the Small Moments.

Here’s what I wrote earlier today after a walk in the afternoon light:

Early January, 2026. My book is not finished and I am angry and frustrated with myself. I felt a creative portal of inspiration opening up within me as I floated in the liminal space of Yule Season. Then back to business like a freight train hitting and I’m watching my creative vision slowly fade. So I am learning to rewrite my creative story. To release my own frustration with writers’ block. I know that to cultivate that thread of creativity, I must write every day. Even a little. And it starts from a foundation of sufficiency, not scarcity.

Believing I haven’t got time for my own writing only continues to perpetuate that reality. I notice in myself that fear and anxiety stem from this story of lack. I’m afraid of my own creative failures. I’m anxious that there isn’t enough time. I sink into a low depression about not writing.

To lift myself from this, I start writing. Small things. A seven-line poem at sunrise.

Poem by Sally-Shakti Willow

I notice the abundance I already have. I’ve written something today. That’s my daily writing practice. My creativity exists because I am cultivating it. I smile and say hello on my walk, and I notice that I am blessed to be out in the sun and the ice, walking among friends in my town.

As I open into this new mindset of sufficiency, of already having enough, my body relaxes, my mind comes alive. And I start to compose this piece. This writing that’s born from the writing I have already written.

Here’s the mindset shift: instead of believing I haven’t got enough time to write and create, I will find small moments for writing and creativity wherever they already exist.

And they are everywhere, when I look! Then I allow myself to write – something small and simple, that doesn’t have to be a big thing or lead anywhere important. With the intention of connecting with these moments at any time throughout the day, and seeing where they take me.

Sometimes, I feel too constricted to block out big chunks of writing time. That’s not how my reality works at the moment. When I lose focus on the small moments, I forget the abundance of creative possibility that’s always already around me. At those times, I lose connection with myself. I start believing that only the big blocks matter. That I should be writing my book and giving it my undivided attention. That works sometimes. It’s necessary at certain times in the process. But the biggest builder of regular, consistent creativity – the thread that keeps me connected with my dreams – is giving myself the permission and ability to start with the small moments, and notice the abundance I already have.

I believed that this small, regular writing was superficial – I wanted to dive deeper into research and immerse myself in the world of my book. And, of course, this is that world. The world I am writing and bringing into being through this book IS the world where I prioritise my own creativity. That world can only come about through my commitment to it in this writing process. And it arises through acknowledging where I’m at. Building this book up, layer by layer, section by section – substack post by substack post – is the only way I can write it right now. I have tried to do it better and differently. I have tried to give myself more time, longer blocks, more regular consistency. That just leads to me feeling frustrated, angry and anxious. It stems from the scarcity story and creates more of the same.

When I commit myself to writing in the small moments, releasing the pressure and allowing myself to be the witness for what comes; no intention, just the clear commitment to write; that’s when the words flow through, spill out, and add up. All without my coercion. The words come to life and move.

This is my commitment to write every day. To look for the moments that are always already there. To start with the small moments and let the books take care of themselves.

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How are you feeling in your writing practice, right now? And what are your strategies for returning to writing after a break? Let’s connect ✍🏽