I am a Writer on Vacation

shifting identities

I am writing to you after taking a few days off to go to the national park in the state where I live (Acadia), where I, as always, held my arms open waiting for inspiration. I go on vacation with the hope that going somewhere new will lead to a spark of an idea. I think, “I am a writer on vacation,” like that mental declaration will crack open a vein of creativity in the new place.

There is a sense I have sometimes that I am allowed to focus on only one thing. I think there is this narrative on social media that we are the Something Guy, like the pie baker or the fountain pen enthusiast or the corduroy pants maker or the fantasy dog groomer.

This is ridiculous. But I am doing it when I think, “I am a writer on vacation.”

Cosmo waiting patiently while I hope for inspiration over coffee.

Current technology practices make me think I need to distill myself down to two pithy sentences for a bio to go under an avatar, and while that can be a thoughtful exercise, it is nonsensical to think that I should narrow myself down to this and then continue to define myself by these pithy phrases. Social media limits the space for our biographies. What’s your identity? Subtract from it! Less! Be less! Smaller, shorter. Be who you are, but make it small, punchy, and for best results, add a hashtag.

I’m much more than that, and so are you. Let’s agree that who we are should be way too vast and complicated to fit into an algorithmically-optimized bio space.

While we were in Acadia, we did a bunch of lovely hikes (as one does). I was happy to learn that Acadia is one of the few national parks that is dog-friendly, allowing dogs on the shuttle busses and on most of the hikes. My dog was also pleased with this news. He has also had to shift his identity over the years, as much as a dog can have an identity, in that he doesn’t always leap to the top of a rock on the first try anymore and he naps for a few more hours per day than he used to.

Cosmo on the Acadia shuttle bus.

He hiked to the top of Cadillac Mountain, and then, on the way down, decided he was so very tired. That the best course of action was to nap in a blueberry bush. Dave said, “I think I should carry him” and I said, “no, no, he can do it.” I didn’t want to believe our sweet old dog was too tired.

But Dave convinced me we should try it, and so I shoved Cosmo into the straps of Dave’s backpack fanny pack thing (this handmade pack is too hard to explain) and I am here to tell you I have not seen our dog grin this big in a long time. This was his lifelong dream. He loves Dave and to have Dave carry him down the mountain, so he could hang casually and still smell everything and enjoy the view — he was so happy.

A happy dog.

I worry all the time that I am missing the truth about everything. I think I should keep my head down and my pen moving and everything will be ok. But I realize it’s important to accept the truth. Why not. My dog is tired and I’m tired too, frankly.

I’m worried you will all think this is the precursor to an essay about my dog’s last days, and it’s not that. He is still trucking along. I am too — and also I understand his tiredness. Not that Cosmo has been exhausted by Big Tech’s insistence that he distill his brand down to two pithy sentences. But: he’s allowed to take a break. So am I, and so are you.

I have been working on a book that is still so far from being done. I love it but every time I’m not working on it, I wonder if I should abandon it. The story of it is foggy and murky to me, and when I think too hard about it, it seems…well, bad, honestly. Trite and not my usual stuff. I wonder if I’m telling myself the truth about whether this book will work or not.

I’m allowed to take a break, and I’m allowed to abandon a book, but I’m also allowed to write a book that isn’t “on brand,” whatever that even means. I’m allowed to spend years on a book that I ultimately decide is trite, if I learn something about myself and about writing in the process. I’m allowed also to trust myself, and that if this is the book I need to work on right now, then I’ll work on it, even though I often think, “What the hell am I even writing here?”

Maybe the book needs to be gently lifted out of the blueberry bush and strapped to my back so I can carry it down the mountain.

Part of having a dog is working hard on training when you and the dog first get together, so the dog understands what their job is, and you do too. The dog knows what to do in order to get kibble, what to do on a walk, what to do when you say their name and then say, “come!” And then, if everyone is understanding each other, you can keep your routine going for many years. You and the dog are predictable. You can predict when your dog wants to be pet and when they do not, and they know when you’re about to get in the car and drive to the vet. Along the way, you can teach your old dog new tricks. And they can teach you some new tricks, too.

So you also have this writing routine, and in the beginning you are training yourself and your writing. You and the writing grow to understand each other, but also, after some years together, you are able to mind read to a certain extent (you and the writing) (and also, frankly, the dog) so you can play and relax and try some new things. You can take your writing on a shuttle bus for the first time, and see that it does just fine.

I get superstitious about my writing routine, like if I try something new, I’ll break it. Even that is denying a truth — I have written books in every corner of the house, during gymnastics classes and swim lessons, in my head at stop lights. The pandemic tossed any routine I had in the trash, and trashed my productivity too. (I had so many writing goals in 2020, some of which I still have not completed.) And so the sense I have now that I have to grip tightly to my current routine is in response to all of that, and also not helpful.

I need to remember that there are many, many ways to write a book. That I’m not “behind” because I went on vacation for five days and was not conveniently hit with inspiration. (I’m allowed to have a vacation be a vacation!) It’s frustrating that I’m still trying to figure this book out after working on it for years, but that’s ok, too. Sometimes that’s how books get written. Books, my creative process, and my writing routine can’t be distilled into attention-grabbing phrases and a well-placed hashtag either.

I feel like I’m walking on a cliff edge of creativity. I know a book doesn’t get written by strong-arming it into submission, but it also doesn’t get written by sitting back and waiting for the words to come. But that cliff edge isn’t as narrow as it seems. There is actually a lot of space between writing with gritted teeth and not writing at all.

What I think is a cliff edge is actually a field of boulders. There is a thunderstorm in the distance. Also this place is literally called WONDERLAND so sometimes life hands me things that are so literal they aren’t even metaphors anymore.

Like with teaching a dog, it’s about showing up and practicing (and treats?). I understand myself as a writer. I know what works for me and what doesn’t work so well. I say, in effect, “Julie, come!" I say, “I am a writer — on vacation, at my desk, on a walk, reading,” and I pay attention. I write the words and pay attention.

Writing is better when I am my full self. I go on vacation or sew a skirt or listen to a podcast while stretching my hamstrings, and I don’t have to be writing while I do those things. I am a better writer if I’m not trying to be an on-brand pithy jumble of phrases for a bio, but when I let myself be my full and human self.

Thoughts and Links

• No audio for this essay, sorry! I came back from vacation with a head cold, and I can’t talk for long. (It’s not covid! I checked!)

• I was interviewed by

  Caroline Cala Donofrio
  for her Wednesday Five Big Questions post. I am a huge fan of her
  Between a Rock and a Card Place
  newsletter, and highly recommend it. If you like my newsletter, you’ll probably like hers, too.

• I always love stories about houses, and especially houses that have their own lovely personality, where you feel like the house and the people in it are working in collaboration to create a special place. Thanks to Claire at

  Loobylu
  for linking to Lucy Boston’s Manor.

• My kid got me this Wet & Wild Grapefruit Mint Lip Treatment from CVS because she knows I love grapefruit anything, and I’m here to tell you that it’s extremely good lip balm.

Books I read recently and loved

Disclosure: book links in this newsletter are affiliate links to Bookshop.org, a site which supports independent bookshops.

• Moving to a new town. Bi girl meeting new friends. Early 2000s fashions. The embarrassment of your job being a giant bunny costume. A teacher inappropriately recommending Lolita. Heartbreak. If any of these phrases entice you, you will love the graphic novel Mall Goth. It’s so good.

• I have been getting back into sewing lately, and I bought Print, Pattern, Sew because I’m intrigued by this notion of not only making my own clothes but making the printed design on the fabric, too.