Writing with Self-Compassion

This summer, I started a short blog series on writing wishes—what they mean to make and how we can honor them.

I invited readers to reflect on their own writing wishes and shared why the act of wishing matters, especially in chaotic or demanding times. I explored the challenge of holding a writing wish that feels far away: How do we write in the in-between moments when time is limited and life is full?

I introduced the idea of the surrender pile—a space for the writing we want to do but can’t right now, whether because of time, energy, or a lack of words. Sometimes, letting go isn’t failure; it’s a wise and necessary pause.

Later, I asked, “What do you need to write like yourself?”
It’s a question rooted in care. When we’re stuck or uncertain, we often need different things to return to ourselves, our voice, our presence, our work. Naming those needs can help us stay connected to writing, even when it’s hard.

Now, I’m closing the series with one last suggestion:
Honor your writing wishes with self-compassion.

This invitation is grounded in both recent learning and long-standing experiences as a writer, caregiver, and someone learning to treat herself with more kindness.

The Care Behind the Writing

For most of my writing life, I’ve also been a caregiver.

When I started graduate school, my first child was fifteen months old. My second was born just after I submitted my dissertation prospectus. My mother was diagnosed with ALS during my second semester on the tenure track. My father experienced multiple health crises throughout my academic career.

There was always something—whether the everyday demands of parenting (homework, school events, middle-of-the-night illnesses) or the layered complexities of caring for aging parents.

I remember people at work asking, “How are your parents?” followed quickly by, “How’s the writing going?”—and I never knew how to answer. My writing life was inextricably linked to my caregiving life. And of all the questions I was asked, the one I heard the least was:

What do you need to support your writing?

And still, I wrote.

I wrote during times I probably should’ve rested. I wrote through grief, exhaustion, and unrelenting responsibility. Maybe that’s why I talk so much about the importance of pausing—because my past self didn’t know how.

Learning to Go Gently

It wasn’t until the spring of 2024, after my father passed away that I formally discovered mindfulness and self-compassion. (Though in truth, I think many of our elders practiced these things long before they had formal names, like my grandmother, who would hand me a cold glass of water and say, “Drink it slowly,” or urge me to lie down for a few quiet minutes when I was overwhelmed.)

When I saw a mindfulness course offered that spring, something in me whispered: “If you can manage one more thing, let it be this.”

I was trying to grieve, to slow down, and to navigate a major life transition: leaving academia and stepping into something new. That class became both a gentle entry point and a lifeline.

It led me to the work of Dr. Kristin Neff, a researcher and author whose definition of self-compassion struck a deep chord:

“Self-compassion is the process of turning compassion inward. We’re kind and understanding rather than harshly self-critical when we fail, make mistakes, or feel inadequate. We give ourselves support and encouragement rather than being cold or judgmental when challenges and difficulties arise in our lives.” — Self-Compassion.org

It felt like learning how to be a caregiver to myself.

I’m not an expert, but I know this: practicing self-compassion has reshaped how I write.

When caregiving consumed my days, I often berated myself for not meeting my writing goals. I minimized the fact that I was navigating emergencies, illness, and parenting while still showing up for my family, students, and writing. I internalized systems that reward only output, never the context that surrounds it.

Now, I try to meet myself with kindness.

If I don’t write on a given day, I ask why—not to judge myself, but to understand. “You didn’t write today because grief showed up. Or because the dog got sick. Or because you needed rest.”
This shift—from criticism to care—makes it easier for the writing to return.

I’m Still Learning

I left my job as a tenured associate professor of writing and rhetoric in December 2024. One of my children has just begun college, and the other is about to start high school. My partner has faced some recent health challenges, shifting our family’s routines. I’m still learning what it means to live without either of my parents. I’m building a writing-centered business rooted in care. And I’m still writing.

Sometimes, the time I’ve set aside for writing gets consumed by life. I still get frustrated!

But now, instead of criticizing myself, I ask: What do I need now?

And honoring that question helps me meet my writing with more clarity and compassion.

Why Close with Self-Compassion?

Because in a world full of noise—expectations, deadlines, feedback, emergencies—it’s easy to lose track of ourselves.

As writers, we’re constantly pulled between our inner desires and external demands. We ask: What’s the point of this piece? Why am I stuck? What am I trying to say? I haven’t written in days…weeks…can I still do this?

In those moments, if we can pause and listen to ourselves with care—as we would a friend—we can begin to find our way back.

Writing Prompts for Self-Compassionate Reflection

If self-compassion feels like something you or your writing might need, here are a few prompts to support your reflection:

What do I need right now to feel supported, to feel like myself as a writer?
(It’s okay if your answer includes things beyond writing: rest, movement, music, laughter, silence.)
What would I say to a dear friend in my situation who feels stuck or behind with their writing?
(Try writing this as a letter from the friend you most need, to yourself.)
What part of my writing life needs a pause, not abandonment?
(How can I mark that pause with care rather than guilt?)

Need Writing Support?

If you’re looking for writing support this summer, I’d love to connect.

✍️ 21-Day Writing Camp (July 8–28)

This asynchronous writing camp is designed to help you get unstuck and meet writing challenges with more compassion. You’ll receive a gentle curriculum that includes weekly themes, prompts, reflection tools, and supportive resources. You can move through it at your own pace—even beyond the 21-day container.

Optional co-writing sessions via Zoom are available—no pressure to share work, just an encouraging space to write in community.

👉 Learn more and register here.

📚 Developmental Editing + Writing Coaching

I have a few spots left for summer coaching and developmental editing.
Consultations are always free—this gives us a chance to connect and see if we’re a good fit.

I’ll also be sharing my fall calendar soon—sign up for my newsletter to be the first to hear about openings and new offerings, including:

📝 Focused writing gatherings designed for caregivers
💡 A fresh collection of writing prompts and guided support (I’ve been creating prompts for decades—and I’m so excited to share them in a new way this fall!)