This Christmas Day bonus episode explores the creative power of stubbornness and includes three reflective prompts to help you close out your year with clarity and intention.
If you have plot bunnies coming out of your plot holes, it's time for a Writing Break.
Welcome, wintry wordsmiths. It’s Christmas Day, and whether or not you celebrate the holiday, the world around us tends to slow down this week. For those in the Northern Hemisphere, it's a time for warm blankets and hot cocoa. For those in the Southern Hemisphere, it's a time for cool breezes and cold treats. Then there are those who, like me, are nearer to the equator than dermatologist recommended. For us, winter weather is as predictable as life. I do not yearn for a white Christmas, but I do appreciate when I get to wear a cozy sweater without breaking a sweat.
Make no mistake, I still wear the sweater in 80-degree weather. Perhaps this comes from an upbringing where the concepts of fashion first, comfort second as well as grin and bear it were drilled into me. Now, instead of being called determined or, at the very least, resolute, I'm called stubborn, to my face, if you can believe it. I tend to avoid hitting you with "Merriam Webster defines such and such as," but I'm going to have to today. See, the first two definitions of stubborn are "unreasonably unyielding" and "justifiably unyielding", which makes stubbornness subjective. If someone is telling you to stop wasting your time writing because your manuscript has been rejected 20 times, are you being unreasonably unyielding or justifiably unyielding by refusing to quit?
Recently I was told that I was stubborn and that it was "not normal". I thought I was being self-reliant. Was it to an abnormal degree? I have no idea. I spend my days with "not normal" people called writers. Trust me, "normal" has never finished a manuscript.
Sometimes you have to be flexible and adaptable, but writing requires an abnormal amount of stubbornness. It’s what lets you face another round of revisions, another critique partner’s notes, and another rejection email without setting your hard drive on fire.
Stubbornness is how stories get finished.
Stubbornness is how books get published.
Stubbornness is how writers survive the writing life.
If you’ve been called stubborn lately by people who think you're too rigid or too intense, remember that stubbornness is discipline in disguise. It’s dedication . . . with a bit of a dramatic edge. It’s the internal compass that points you back to your own voice when outside opinions start getting loud.
Every writing project reaches a point where it’s not cute anymore. The enthusiasm is gone, the outline is questionable, and you're rethinking your life choices. That’s when stubbornness steps in to save the day. Stubbornness is the reason you return to your manuscript, again and again. It's what keeps you writing instead of applying to jobs that don’t involve plot structure.
Stubbornness also protects your voice. You’ll get feedback, some of it brilliant and some of it… not as brilliant. Being open to revision matters, yet being anchored matters just as much. A stubborn writer sifts through the feedback and decides what serves the story and what doesn't.
In the end, it’s not the easy, breezy, go-with-the-flow energy that carries a book across the finish line. This creative life requires an unyielding spirit.
You don't have to be immovable; you have to be unshakeable. And if that’s what people call stubborn, fine. Stay stubborn.
And if you think I'm recording this in some kind of passive-aggressive attempt to make a point to the person who called me stubborn, you're wrong. First off, you're wrong because no one I know listens
I have three overthinking prompts for you today:
Think of your year as a story. What was your inciting incident? What obstacle forced you to grow? What theme emerged between the lines? Once you have all that answered, write your year's story in one sentence.
What title would you give this past year?
What do you, the protagonist, need most in the next chapter?
Until next time, may your holidays be gentle, your coffee strong, and your story ever unfolding. Thank you so much for listening, and remember, you deserved this break.
