It’s time to get in touch with your intuition.

If you’re anything like the writers I’ve been coaching lately, both in individual Get Unstuck sessions and my three-month program, that’s probably one of the biggest things standing between you and a writing practice that unlocks your creativity.

Intuition even came up in Casey Johnston’s fabulous book A Physical Education, which I finished the other day (affiliate link). She wrote,

Johnston is talking about her relationship with food and the ways diet culture damaged her connection with her body—and it made me think about the way our intuition’s compass is so often damaged by conventional writing advice.

The constant drumbeat of “Write every day” and “You just need discipline” and “It worked for me, so there’s no reason it shouldn’t work for you” can override our quiet inner knowing about our creative rhythms.

When our relationship with our intuition is disrupted, we lose the ability to hear its messages clearly. Anxiety and self-criticism step into the gap and set us up for similar all-or-nothing ways of thinking about our writing.

“I might as well not write at all if I’m not disciplined enough to write every day.” Starvation—or a one-pound plate of buttered noodles.

No in-between. No grace. No room for intuition to guide us to what we really need.

I’ll use myself as another example here. It’s fall—and while I’m reveling in the witchy vibes and soaking up the last warm days before the cold really sets in, autumn also marks a seasonal shift in my creative practice. It’s not one I have always loved.

In spring and summer, I am bursting with creative energy. I started learning how to draw this year, and quickly expanded into watercolor and collage. At the height of summer, I was spending hours at a time working on some piece of art or another.

Now that it's October, that creative energy is withering as quickly as the leaves on the oak trees outside my window. It’s turning brown, curling in on itself, and soon it will drop away all but entirely.

In previous years, the onset of fall has been a source of dread. I knew the slump was coming and I fought it with every ounce of my energy, beating myself up through the entirety of fall and winter.

The result, of course, was that I spent all the energy I did have berating myself for not being as productive in December as I am in July.

Now, I take a different approach when my seasonal depression starts to rear its head. I sit with it. I listen to my intuition. I take care of myself. I ask, "What do I need right now, in this season?"

The message I get again and again—from my body, from the cards I pull—is to slow down. Tend to myself. Rest and restore. Retreat, regroup, recenter.

Conventional wisdom (and capitalist pressure) insists that we must show up in the same way with the same energy, day in and day out, regardless of the season (and please read “season” broadly here—maybe you’re in a specific season of life, or the socioeconomic and political turmoil is taking its toll on your creativity).

Trying to align with that always-on mode of being was doing far more damage and making my lower-energy seasons far more miserable than they needed to be. It took me years (and a lot of therapy!) to learn that lesson, but I’m able to recognize the signs and respond to what I need. I listen to my intuition.

Instead of being upset that I “only” sketched for 20 minutes yesterday, I regard that as a good day for this season. I had enough energy to stay in touch with my creative practice, and that’s great.

Instead of insisting that I tackle the whole book I’m working on over the fall and winter, I know that the next few months are going to be a time of slow research, information-gathering, and sitting quietly with the idea as it takes shape at its own pace.

Fall and winter are compost seasons. It’s time to slow down and let my energy rebuild beneath the surface.

It can be frustrating, sure, but I also know that when spring arrives, that energy will come rip-roaring back out of me like a spring storm. It’ll be all I can do to keep up with the surge of ideas.

The choice doesn’t have to be between starvation and a pound of buttered noodles.

In her book, Johnston goes on to describe the ways that lifting weights helped her get in tune with her body, repairing her relationship with herself, with food, and with her intuition.

We can do the same with our writing. We can learn what works for us during this unique season of our lives, and we can build a writing practice that feels supportive and, in fact, downright magical.

If your intuition feels like it has a broken compass, or you recognize yourself in that starvation/noodle overload pattern of thinking, here’s where I recommend starting to rebuild that connection.

• Get bored. Creating blank space in your day—no phone, nothing to do, true honest-to-goodness boredom—is an amazing way to let your anxious, cluttered thoughts spin themselves out and eventually get quiet enough for intuition and inspiration to make themselves heard. Boredom isn’t comfortable, but it is necessary.
• Keep a journal. If you don’t already have a regular journal practice, writing out your thoughts can clear your head, help you notice changes and track rhythms, and make room for intuition to speak.
• Pay attention to your body. Intuition often shows up in our bodies—our guts, our body language. If your body feels rigid, closed-off, or resistant when you’re trying to write, there’s information there. You don’t need to bulldoze through it; you need to listen. What needs to change?

Now let’s get even more witchy about it. You can also work on fostering a connection with your intuition through visualizations, meditation, rituals, and tarot and oracle card reading.

Rather than using the tarot as a tool for predicting the future—would that I had that particular skill!—I use it to help me observe my patterns, check in with my intuition, consider factors I might be overlooking, and think about what actions I want to take.

I love using the tarot as a starting point for further reflections (although you can also use these questions as journal prompts without doing a card pull!).

• What is blocking my creativity?
• What do I need to release to be my full creative self?
• What resources are available to support my creativity?
• What aspect of my writing practice needs my attention?
• What can I do to improve my writing practice?
• Where is fear holding me back in my writing?

Next week, we’re going to keep talking about how leading with our intuition can help us break out of shame spirals about our writing, find the magic in our writing, and attend to three key elements of a successful writing life: mindset, practice, and craft.