In my profession, there’s a helpful rule/guideline that says to ‘write for the tired reader’. It reminds us that language, layout, sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, rhythm, phrasing, and every other feature of the way we weave words needs to be helpful and barrier-free.1 It’s so that everyone, however they’re feeling, can catch the meaning and – in the case of this sort of writing – enjoy the reading.
There’s an accompanying rule I like to apply: recognise when you’re a tired writer. Today, although I was on a roll this morning writing this week’s post (in the sunshine! in the garden! spring is here!), when I came back to my writing this afternoon, my energy wasn’t there to add in the things I wanted to add, to look up the things I still needed to look up, and to make a decision about whether to split things into two separate posts or to keep as one.
I’ve talked before about how most of the magic of writing and editing happens not writing – that’s when, for me, ideas happen, when sentences slot into place, when problems of paragraph order get resolved. Mopping the kitchen floor usually does the trick.
But right now it’s rest, not chores, I need. (I realise I wrote last week about being tired too? That was from flat-pack furniture. This time it’s from a fun but full-on weekend and, frankly, from being a woman).
This evening’s writing-but-not-writing needs to be some:
good food (tbc what but must include a leek which needs using up … which, now I come to think of it, is very seasonally appropriate given we’ve just had St David’s Day)
reading (I got my hands on Ella Frears’s Goodlord yesterday – her fictional memoir written as a book-length email to a letting agent – and I couldn’t be loving it more)
sleep (fresh sheets, fresh pyjamas – is there anything better in life?! Looking forward to climbing into bed like a Victorian lady)
See you next week when I’ll bring you some well-rested writing from a well-rested me.

While still allowing room for curiosity, adventure, and discovery.