Lately, writing has become a chore.

I don't write because inspiration has struck, I write because there's a deadline approaching. What was once an intimate and personal act has become a means to an end: an A on a paper, college acceptance, something impressive to put on my resume. Every word I churn out seems like a check in the box.

For a while, I blamed the endless pile of schoolwork I kept buried in the layers of tabs in my browser. Then I blamed my busy work schedule. I of course paid my respects the pandemic more than a few times, but after all the excuses, it came down to this: I simply don't trust myself to produce creative writing anymore. After years of pumping out writing on demand for sake of good grades and a hearty pat on the back, I just don't know how to access whatever creative thoughts or feelings I might have.

Recently, I've been scrambling to find my creative voice again. I want to go back to some semblance of that place I lived in when I was in middle school, that place between fantasy and reality where all that really mattered was my paper and pencil world.

1. Get some air. It sounds stupid simple, but like actually, do it. Being a ghostly pale shut in is great for avoiding you friendly neighborhood anti-maskers, but breathing in stale bedroom air gets to your head after a while. Crack open a window, go on walk, drive around with the windows down--treat your lungs to some fresh air and hope and pray it'll clear your mind.

2. Do something you love. That is, something that doesn't involve a screen. I love scrolling and clicking too, but it almost never inspires me to do anything besides sit in bed all day. Doing something that gets me out of my head without making my brain feel like sludge--like knitting, reading, or baking--never fails, if not to inspire, then at least to cheer me up.

3. Read. Books are how most of us fell in love with writing, so it only makes sense to go back to them when the line between love and hate goes from fine to ultra fine. I always find literary feats of creativity to be a great source of inspiration for what or how I want to write. Sometimes, in an act of masochistic nostalgia, I go back and read some of my old writing. Disgust can be a powerful motivator as well.

4. Journal. Sometimes, I find myself more preoccupied with the desire to fill a page with words than actually filling a page with words. With journaling, that pressure disappears because you're writing straight from your brain. It doesn't matter if what's written is good or not because that's not the point of journaling. Sifting through all you thoughts on a page can be extremely therapeutic.

5. Play pretend. No, seriously. Sit down and pretend you're some other version of yourself. Find yourself a mug and a faraway table and write as if you are a mysterious stranger sipping coffee in a Parisian cafe. Hide in a tucked away corner and write as if you are a ditzy daydreamer who hides notebooks in random nooks and crannies to keep track of their thoughts. I find that, by romanticizing the writing process, I've already put myself in the headspace for imaginative thinking.

Not every method I've tried has been effective, but in going through these motions, I've started to dread writing less. I don't know if I'll break free of this checklist mentality, but at least I'm one step closer.