What to write when your brain is fried

On writer's block and the fear of being boring

@ bart’s books in ojai

Last week we spent three cloudy days in Ojai, the sleepy town where we got married. It’s almost always sunny there, but ‘May Gray’ (in which gray skies loom over the southern California coast all month) cast a chilly, silvery hue across the valley on this visit. It was our first time back with the baby, and his first time sleeping in a hotel room, both of which felt equally momentous. Here’s the part where I could describe roaming the aisles of my favorite bookstore in the world with Leo, or the quiet thrill of watching him bite into a pixie orange for the first time, the sweet juice dribbling down his chin as a giant grin spread across his face. I could skip ahead to Saturday night, when I was back home in LA and went to see Justin Timberlake in concert. I could tell you about the nostalgia I felt for his past shows – *NSYNC when I was 10, an early date with Adam in 2019 – and explain my reasons for supporting him despite his recent online cancellation.*

But the truth is, my brain is fried. “Fried like an egg,” Adam said when I shared this with him. Between Leo, working on a second book, a never ending to-do list, and attempts at self-care and exercise, I feel like I have no energy left for writing for fun. I used to get tons of ideas and couldn’t get the words out fast enough. But lately, I feel zapped. Egg-like. Maybe it’s because I feel self-conscious about what’s really on my mind – Leo’s schedule, mostly, as well as car seats, music classes, and making mom friends – and worried that only writing about mom stuff will a) be boring and b) mean I’m somehow exploiting my baby online.