Creative Curiosity: Reclaiming the Joy of Writing

I’ve always known I wanted to write. As a kid, I read everything from C. S. Lewis to V. C. Andrews, and started writing down my thoughts as soon as I could hold a pencil. In my teenage years, I filled journals with my loopy handwriting. Writing and I were best friends.

(How to Write Novels Readers Really Love.)

In my late teens, I began writing my first real short stories and tried to get them published, sending work to Sassy, Seventeen, and local newspapers. Looking back, this changed everything—but not how you might think. While submitting to editors is an important part of being a writer, there was an unexpected consequence.

As soon as I began writing for publication, I started to disconnect from my curiosity. The change was subtle at first, but the separation grew until it became a painful tension. I began to resist doing the thing I loved most.

When I could write, everything felt okay. But when I wasn’t writing, I felt like something was wrong with me. I became anxious and depressed, my thoughts twisting into glum, gluey knots. People called it writer’s block, but that term didn’t capture the deep heartbreak I was experiencing. This felt like fighting with someone I loved.

It took 20 years to understand this pattern and how to change it. During those years, I studied with masters in different fields, learning new ways to think about consciousness, language, story, and wonder. Only then did I see what had happened: In my intense focus on getting published, I’d stopped listening to what made me curious and alive as a writer.

Getting published is an excellent goal! But I was so devoted to that outcome that I wrote only what I thought would impress editors and appeal to readers. I wrote pieces that I hoped sounded literary and smart, trying to guess what readers wanted. 

In doing so, I’d forgotten something essential: I used to write because I loved reading, because I was curious about how words and sentences could work alchemically on a page. I used to love the simple feeling of putting pen to paper.

Through this exploration, I learned two crucial things. First, in my consciousness, happiness and curiosity show up together—they’re deeply entwined. Second, being curious wasn’t just a personality trait but an active practice.

As my love for writing returned, I realized my struggle wasn’t unique. Many writers lose touch with their initial passion and creativity in the pursuit of external validation. This realization drew me to teaching, and to write a book about creative curiosity. Because once you learn how to make curiosity a practice, you’ll never feel blocked again.

Check out Sarah Selecky’s Story Is a State of Mind here:

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