I think most people who write reach a point where it stops feeling simple. It doesn’t happen all at once. You don’t usually notice it in the moment. You just realise, later on, that sitting down feels different to how it used to.
Nothing dramatic has gone wrong. You open a document. You reread the last paragraph. Maybe you change a word or two. You sit there longer than you planned. Nothing comes. If the words make it onto the page, they can feel forced. It's like you’re pushing the narrative along rather than it flowing naturally out of you.
You start to actively avoiding writing anything, the computer starts to gather dust, and you find any number of jobs to do instead. You tell yourself that you’ll "come back to it later", but we all know that later never comes. Before you know it, you've lost a month.
This shift is often mistaken for a lack of motivation, but this isn't true. It's more like writing has become a weight on your shoulders, and now you’re conscious of it every time you sit down behind the computer (or pen and paper. I don't want to judge).
If that sounds familiar, you may find it useful to read how to start writing when you feel stuck, which looks at beginning again without forcing momentum.
When writing quietly changes shape
Pressure doesn’t announce itself. It creeps in.
It might start with keeping track of word counts. Or noticing how long it’s been since you last wrote anything you liked. Or comparing what you’re doing now to something you wrote years ago and somehow trusted more.
At some point, writing stops being exploratory. It starts feeling evaluative. You’re judging it while you’re still doing it.
That’s usually when enjoyment slips away.
Why enjoyment matters more than it sounds
Enjoyment is often treated as a bonus. Something you get once the work is finished, if you’re lucky.
With writing, though, it feels more basic than that. Enjoyment is often what gets you back to the page before discipline even has a chance to get involved. When it’s missing, writing leans almost entirely on effort, and that only stretches so far. Most people realise that eventuallWhen it feels heavy, starting becomes a conversation you keep having with yourself, and it doesn’t always end in writing.
Compared to that, targets and word counts start to feel less important, at least once you’ve been at it for a while. And while it isn’t a guarantee, writing that feels engaged and alive usually carries something of that feeling with it. You can sense it as a reader. Or at least, I think you can.
Writing without pressure is not about lowering standards
This part often gets misunderstood.
Removing pressure doesn’t mean not caring. It doesn’t mean abandoning quality or intention. More often, it just means holding off on judgment until later, when it can actually do some good. Research into creative flow suggests that reduced pressure can make it easier to stay engaged with creative work over time.
From the outside, writing without pressure can look a bit unimpressive. Short sessions. Messy notes. Stopping earlier than planned. Writing things you’re not even sure you’ll keep.
None of that looks like progress in the usual sense. And maybe it isn’t, at least not straight away. But it’s often the point where writing starts to feel possible again, which matters more than it sounds.
Letting writing be smaller than expected
Big goals can help some writers. Others freeze under them.
If writing has started to feel difficult, it can help to shrink the frame. Write for ten minutes instead of an hour. Write something that has no destination. Write knowing you might stop mid-sentence.
There’s a quiet relief in not needing the session to prove anything.
Sometimes that relief is enough.
Progress doesn’t always look like progress
This can be the most frustrating part with writing.
Progress might be opening the document without dread. Or stopping before irritation sets in. Or realising that the project you thought you were avoiding still matters, just not in the same way right now.
None of that shows up in word counts. It doesn’t look productive. But it changes how writing feels the next time you return.
And that’s usually what counts.
Finding your way back, gently
Enjoying writing again rarely happens all at once. It comes back in fragments. A sentence you don’t hate. A session that ends before frustration. A moment where you forget to check the clock.
Those moments are easy to dismiss. They probably shouldn’t be.
If writing has started to feel heavy, easing pressure isn’t avoidance. It's often the most direct way back to something that feels honest and more like you again.
Frequently Asked Questions
Why do I struggle to enjoy writing even though I want to write?
I think it usually starts when writing stops being a place you go and starts being something you measure. Not deliberately. It just… happens. You notice how long it’s been since you last wrote. You think about what you should be working on. You sit down already half-judging what’s about to come out.
Somewhere in there, expectation sneaks in.
Deadlines don’t help, obviously. Neither does comparing yourself to other writers, even casually, even when you tell yourself you’re only looking for inspiration. There’s also that quiet thought in the background that this session needs to lead to something. A page. A scene. Proof that the time was justified.
That’s usually when the enjoyment thins out.
Wanting to write doesn’t always disappear, though, and that’s the strangest part. You still feel drawn to it like a moth, think about it'll the time, and still miss writing when you’re not doing it. But enjoying it is different. When expectation takes up too much space, the wanting tends to hang around. The enjoyment is the bit that slips away first.
How can I start writing without pressure?
Often by deciding, in advance, that the writing doesn’t need to go anywhere.
That might mean writing something you never intend to share. Or setting a time limit instead of a word target. Or stopping if it writing becomes tough going, even if it feels a bit unfinished.
The aim isn’t productivity. It’s rebuilding trust in the act of writing itself. That tends to matter more than output, at least at this stage.
Can writing less help you enjoy it more?
This can be useful, but not always. It doesn't mean you shouldn't try it.
Writing less can lower the pressure on you. In turn, this can reduce the resistance. When writing feels optional again, returning to it becomes easier. Sessions don’t need to be defended or justified.
Enjoyment doesn’t come from volume. It comes from sustainability, which can easy to forget.
Is it normal to lose motivation after starting a writing project?
This is very normal.
It’s common for the early enthusiasm often found at the start of a project starts to fade once a project becomes familiar. That doesn’t mean the initial idea was wrong. Usually, the process that worked at the beginning no longer fits with where the writing project is now.
Changing how you and when you write, rather than abandoning the project altogether, is often the key to getting things moving forwards again. Slowly, perhaps, but honestly.
Can writing without pressure still lead to finished work?
Yes, though it may not look efficient while it’s happening.
When you begin to write from a less pressurised mindset, you'll probably find that you write at a slower pace. This will give you fewer false starts, and over time, will lead to a steadier rhythm can lead to finished pieces which feel more cohesive, and less forced.
A lot of long projects are completed like this, even if it is not publicly acknowledged or spoken about.
How do you enjoy writing again?
Usually by letting it be imperfect, private, and slightly undefined.
Writing becomes easier when it isn’t asked to justify itself straight away. Short sessions help. Low expectations help. Curiosity helps most of all.
Enjoyment tends to return when pressure leaves first.
Where can I find out more about writing and storytelling?
If you enjoy reflective approaches to writing, storytelling, and world-building, you can find related blogs, fiction and material via the World of Tellus websites at eapurle.co.uk.