Knowing When to Pause: Writing, Rest, and Self-Care at Christmas
- Valerie Miller
- 24 hours ago
- 4 min read
Christmas arrives quietly for writers.
Not always with bells or music or celebration—but often with tiredness. With the gentle ache of a year spent thinking deeply, imagining lives across decades and continents, holding grief and hope and beauty in your hands like something fragile. Writers of historical fiction, magical realism, and literary fiction carry a particular weight: we don’t just tell stories—we listen to them. We excavate memory. We sit with silence. We honour what came before.
And by December, that kind of work can leave us beautifully full… and quietly exhausted.
In a world that celebrates productivity, word counts, and “finishing strong,” Christmas offers a radical alternative: permission to pause.
The Myth of the Christmas Writing Sprint
Every December, writers are bombarded with the same messages: Finish the draft before the year ends. Use the holidays to get ahead. Finally make time to write. And while that advice may suit some, it can feel jarring for writers whose work requires emotional presence, reflection, and deep interiority. Historical fiction asks us to inhabit another era. Magical realism asks us to sit at the threshold between worlds. Literary fiction asks us to observe, to question, to dwell. These are not genres that thrive under pressure alone.
Sometimes, the most generous thing you can do for your writing—especially at Christmas—is to step back from it.
Rest Is Not Abandonment
Taking a break does not mean you are giving up on your book. It means you are trusting it.
Stories, like seasons, have rhythms. There are times for planting and times for growth, and times when the soil needs to lie fallow. Christmas, with its natural slowing, invites that rest.
You may notice signs that it’s time to pause:
You reread your work and feel numb instead of curious
You push yourself to the page out of guilt rather than desire
Your body feels tense before you even open the document
The story feels distant, resistant, or strangely quiet
These are not failures. They are signals. Your creative self is asking for nourishment, not discipline.
What Self-Care Looks Like for Thoughtful Writers
Self-care for writers isn’t always candles and baths, though those can help. Often, it looks quieter. Simpler. More internal.
At Christmas, self-care might mean:
Reading without analysing craft
Visiting places that echo your story’s landscapes, without taking notes
Letting yourself be a daughter, mother, friend, or partner first
Sitting with memories—yours or your family’s—without turning them into scenes
Trusting that your imagination is still working, even when you aren’t writing
For writers of intergenerational stories, diaspora narratives, or emotionally layered fiction, Christmas can stir personal history. That, too, is work of a kind, just not the kind that shows up in word counts.
Staying Gently Connected to Your Story
Taking a break doesn’t mean severing the thread. If you want to remain lightly connected to your work, consider softer practices:
Keep a “Christmas notebook” for stray thoughts or sensory details
Write a letter to your story, rather than working on it
Ask your protagonist what they need right now—and listen without answering
Reflect on what this year of writing has taught you, rather than what it produced
These practices keep the story alive without demanding output. They honour the relationship rather than the result.
The Gift of Returning Rested
One of the quiet miracles of rest is what happens after it. Writers often return in January with:
Clearer emotional insight
Stronger intuition about what to cut or deepen
Renewed trust in their voice
A calmer, more sustainable relationship with the work
Distance brings perspective. Stillness brings clarity. When you allow yourself to rest at Christmas, you return not behind but ready.
A Gentle Permission Slip
If you need it, here it is:
You are allowed to stop. You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to enjoy this season without producing anything. Your stories will wait for you. They always do. Because stories, especially the ones rooted in memory, magic, and meaning, are not lost when we pause. They are kept.
This Christmas, let yourself be human first and writer second. Let care come before creation. Let rest be part of the work.
Your stories will bloom again. And bloom when the season is right.
About Me
I’m a Brisbane-based novelist, book coach, and high school English teacher. I write historical fiction and magical realism with heart, often inspired by Italian-Australian stories, intergenerational memory, and the quiet power of women’s lives. I believe stories are medicine, and that writing should be both brave and sustainable.
My debut novel, There’s Something About You, Olivia Bennet, is a dual-timeline historical fiction set between 1964 and 1989. It follows Olivia Bennet as she uncovers the secret past of her Italian migrant mother, Rosemary. Exploring identity, silence, courage, and the legacy of love passed between women.
You can find out more about my writing, coaching, and creative reflections at Blossoming Book Coaching, where I support writers to cultivate their stories with clarity, confidence, and care.
Wishing you rest, stories, and a little Christmas magic,
