Letting Go, Lighting Up, and Why Working Hard Only Works When You Love the Work

I’ve spent a large portion of my life trying to make things work.

And by “make things work,” I don’t mean gently nudging them along while sipping tea and humming happily. I mean fixing problems that weren’t technically mine, pushing projects uphill like a strange mythological creature, explaining myself repeatedly to people who had already decided not to listen, and over-delivering as if there were Olympic medals for emotional exhaustion.

This skill set served me very well in my various jobs. I was reliable. Resourceful. The person you could hand a mess to and say, “Can you sort this out?” I could. I did. Repeatedly. With flair. And snacks.

But somewhere along the way, I noticed something curious. I was very good at making things work… and very bad at resting afterward.

By the end of many years, I wasn’t just tired. I was tired of being tired. Tired of proving. Tired of pushing. Tired of explaining why I deserved to be in the room when I was usually the one rearranging the furniture.

So this year, I started letting go.

I let go of the pressure to change anyone’s mind. If someone wants to misunderstand me now, I politely step aside and let them enjoy that hobby in peace.

I let go of the habit of overworking to prove my worth. My worth, it turns out, does not increase with sleep deprivation or inbox heroics.

And perhaps the hardest one of all, I let go of the belief that I have to do everything myself. Shocking, I know. Somewhere, Past Me gasped and clutched her clipboard.

Here’s the strange thing though. When I stopped gripping so tightly, nothing fell apart. In fact, things got lighter. Quieter. Kinder.

If you’re feeling tired or stuck at the end of this year, here’s a thought I wish I’d had sooner. Maybe you’re not doing something wrong. Maybe you’re just carrying something you don’t need anymore. Maybe you’re not doing too much. Maybe you’re doing too little of what actually lights you up.

When I decided to become a full-time writer, I worked harder than I ever had before. Which sounds wildly irresponsible given everything I just said, but stay with me.

I write every day. I think constantly. I revise. I doubt. I try again. I juggle creativity with deadlines, art with business, inspiration with reality. It is work. Real work.

And yet… every single day is a joy.

People love to tell me that if I’d worked this hard in any of my previous jobs, I would have owned the world by now. Maybe I would have. Maybe there would have been a corner office and a very aggressive stapler with my name on it.

But I would have hated it.

Working hard isn’t the problem. Working hard at something that drains the life out of you is.

Writing doesn’t exhaust me the way those jobs did. It stretches me. It challenges me. It excites me. Even on the difficult days, there’s a quiet sense of yes underneath it all. This is mine. This is what I choose.

So as the year winds down, I’m not making resolutions to do more. I’m making space to do truer. Fewer things that prove something. More things that mean something.

If you’re standing at the edge of a new year feeling worn thin, I hope you ask yourself one gentle question. What could you put down… so you can finally pick up what you love?

Trust me. The world will keep spinning. And you might just start enjoying the ride.

— Sabine Frisch
Cozy mystery author, professional over-thinker, and enthusiastic believer that joy is not a luxury but a requirement ✨🐾

Writers, Don’t Be a Slave to Word Count: Let the Story Speak for Itself

As writers, we’ve all asked ourselves that nagging question: “Is my book long enough? Too short? How long should it be?” It’s easy to get caught up in the numbers, obsessing over whether our work fits neatly into arbitrary word count guidelines. But here’s the truth: Word count should never dictate the quality of your story. The heart of storytelling lies in the narrative itself, not in how many pages it spans. The Pressure of Word Count From NaNoWriMo goals to publishing industry standards, writers face constant reminders about “acceptable” word counts. A novel must be 80,000-100,000 words. A novella shouldn’t exceed 40,000. Short stories have their own limits. These guidelines are helpful, but they can also be stifling. We begin to pad scenes unnecessarily or trim meaningful moments just to conform to these benchmarks. I’ve been there. I’ve wrestled with my manuscript, forcing it to stretch or condense to meet expectations. And you know what happened? The authenticity of the...

The Glamorous Life of a Writer (Or, Mostly Just Staring at a Screen)

There’s a persistent rumor floating around that writers live thrilling, adventure-filled lives. Perhaps it’s all the dramatic author portraits on book jackets—moody, windswept, staring off into the distance as if contemplating the fate of the world. Perhaps it’s the movies, where writers are always dashing off to Paris to write the next great novel in a charming café (suspiciously never interrupted by spotty Wi-Fi or overpriced croissants). I hate to break it to you, but real writing? Not quite so cinematic. In reality, my writing days mostly involve staring intensely at my screen, willing the words to appear through sheer force of will. Occasionally, I engage in deep philosophical debates with myself—such as whether my protagonist should turn left or right down a hallway (the fate of the fictional world depends on it). And let’s not forget the highly intellectual process of naming characters, which can take hours because somehow every single name I think of is either the name of ...

Picking a Favorite Character? Impossible!

The question comes up all the time. It’s inevitable. Like taxes. Or discovering that you’ve been walking around with spinach in your teeth all day. "Who’s your favorite character?" And I should have a definitive answer, right? Like, boom—here’s my favorite! Neatly tied up, no hesitation, no emotional turmoil, no staring off into the middle distance questioning my life choices. But no. That is not how this works. That is not how any of this works. My knee-jerk reaction is always Pixie . Pixie, my telepathic, sass-infused, magical Papillon from the Magical Papillon Mysteries . How could I not pick her? She’s got it all—wit, charm, fluffy ears, and, most importantly, magic. I mean, who wouldn’t want a touch of magic? I can barely find my car keys half the time. Pixie would just twitch an ear, and boom—problem solved. And she’s funny. Not just “accidentally amusing” funny. No, she’s deliberately funny. She says the things we all wish we could say, with perfect comed...

Thinkingdog Publishing

Search This Blog