This Is What My Most Productive Weeks Actually Look Like

No hacks. No systems. Just a lot of lying on the floor doing absolutely nothing.

Image via Substack.

Most people don’t believe me when I say this.

But some of my most productive weeks as a full-time writer start with me doing absolutely nothing.

Not planning or journaling or cleaning the flat and pretending it’s rest. Actual nothing. Sitting on the floor. Staring at the wall. Watching videos I won’t remember. And opening the fridge even though I’m not hungry.

The first few times it happened, I panicked.

I’d spent years trying to force discipline.

Writing every day.

Tracking word counts.

Feeling guilty if I took even a morning off.

I thought rest was something I earned.

I worked hard, then I got to relax.

But I wasn’t earning it.

I was watching hours go by without writing a single sentence. Then I’d scroll through Substack or Medium and see someone saying they wrote three newsletters in one weekend.

I started doing the mental math.

If they were working while I was lying in bed, did that mean I was falling behind?

That’s the part nobody tells you.

The hardest thing about doing nothing is what it makes you feel.

Lazy. Weak. Undisciplined.

Like maybe you don’t want it enough.

I used to believe that too.

But the longer I’ve been doing this, the more I’ve started to realize something else entirely.

The main reason I avoid burnout and have a consistent writing schedule is because I allow myself to rest.

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When I say I allow myself to rest, I don’t mean going on a two-week vacation.

I mean I close the laptop at 11am and don’t feel guilty about it.

I mean I stop working after lunch because my brain’s not cooperating.

I mean I take a Tuesday afternoon to read a novel I’ve already read before.

Not because it’s productive.

Not because it’s research.

Just because I want to.

That used to feel wrong.

Like I was wasting time.

Like I should at least be doing something useful.

I’d think about how other writers probably didn’t stop at 11am.

Or how if I wanted to grow faster, I should be using every spare moment to write more, post more, plan more.

But the days I force myself to keep going are never the days I write anything worth publishing.

And the days I rest?

That’s when the ideas come.

Not while I’m refreshing my stats or staring at a blank screen.

But when I’m walking to the shop. Or lying in bed with no plans. Or sitting in the garden not thinking about writing at all.

That’s when I suddenly know what to say.

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I don’t write every day.

I write when I can think clearly.

When I have something to say.

When I’m not running on fumes.

And the only reason that happens is because I’ve built space into my week to do nothing.

Not out of laziness.

Not because I’m looking for shortcuts.

But because I’ve learned what happens when I don’t.

I burn out.

I get frustrated.

I write the same sentence five times and delete it every time.

I end up hating the thing I used to love.

Most people never see that part.

They see the output.

The finished piece.

The consistent publishing schedule every Wednesday.

What they don’t see are the mornings I didn’t touch my laptop.

The hours I let my brain wander until it found something that felt worth saying.

That’s how I work now.

I don’t force it.

I don’t treat rest like a reward.

It’s part of the process.

And it’s the reason I haven’t quit.

If this edition of Writing Wednesdays resonated with you, share it by clicking the restack button. It’s completely free and could give someone the encouragement they’ve been looking for.