I have written on LinkedIn almost every single day, since 2019. But two months ago, I stopped. I used to write not because of some kind of self-discipline or to maintain a writing streak, but because I felt a burning urge to tell a story, share a lesson, or sometimes, just rant at the world. That urge was like a fire inside, which pushed me to write. But in the last few months, that inner fire began to dwindle. I started feeling an emptiness. I no longer felt I had that much to say or write, until one day, when I felt I had nothing to say at all. So I stopped. I stopped writing on LinkedIn. I also stopped my fortnightly newsletters and YouTube videos. I went quiet, giving myself the space to figure things out. Honestly, I was dejected with myself. But sometimes, you have to give yourself time. Or at least, that is what I told myself. And I used this quiet time and saved energy to do other things. I started working on my next career pivot: as a tech entrepreneur. More about that another day. 🙂 Also, I worked intensive consulting engagements helping companies adopt a culture of calm productivity, rather than staying caught up in hyperactivity and busyness. Today, after a 2-month gap I felt like writing again. So here I am. I don't know whether I will write daily or weekly, but I will be here when I have something to say. Hope you have been well. 😇
Rajan Singh Thank you for sharing this. I had a similar pause after finishing 250 consecutive newsletters on senior leadership and middle management. My inner fire had gone quiet for a while, so I stepped back and waited for it to return naturally. Your journey mirrors what many creators experience but rarely talk about. Good to see you writing again.
What you describe is something many creators experience but rarely articulate: the shift from disciplined output to intentional silence. That pause often becomes the foundation for the next evolution.
A pause often gives new depth, opening different angles on yourself and on the connections around you. Usually, what follows is a local, or sometimes much larger, reassembly of yourself or your path.
Rajan Singh I can feel a lot with you. I write mostly when I feel to write, not out of obsession. I did the same when I was focusing on other things, like my new job or taking care of my parents when they were here. I stopped writing for a while and gave myself space & it worked for me. Looking forward to reading more of your stories!
lovely💛Rajan Singh I also feel that when something is forced the beauty in it is lost. I also was trying to consistently write whether or not I had something genuine to say, but now I am trying to be true to myself, there is sweet balance which arrives only when we are aligned✨🪻
That's the healthiest approach to content. Writing from obligation rarely connects the way writing from genuine thought does. Glad the spark is returning. Excited to see what comes next, at whatever pace works for you.
What you’re describing is a phenomenon well-documented in psychology and even evolutionary biology. Research on the default mode network in neuroscience shows that periods of apparent inactivity are when the brain integrates experiences, prunes unproductive neural pathways, and generates breakthrough insights. The most compelling parallel comes from the work of researcher Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, who found that the most original thinkers cycle through phases of intense production and deliberate fallow periods. Welcome back.
I’ve taken 4 months breaks from this platform since 2018. I come back stronger each time with more clarity. Sometimes a break is a necessary reset.
Rajan Singh what you write matters . Even if it is repeat, it matters. We all need reinforcement . We don’t expect fresh brilliant insights everyday . Keeep posting — even if you think u have already said at x times —- keep saying — u never know which post -turns on which light for which reader …
Beautifully honest reflection. It’s funny how people think creators stop writing because they “ran out of discipline,” when the real culprit is usually more mystical — the inner fire goes on annual leave without notice. Your two-month silence feels less like quitting and more like nature’s version of a software update: everything goes dark for a while, and then suddenly you emerge with new features — in your case, tech entrepreneur mode activated. There’s a quiet wisdom in stepping back. Even volcanoes don’t erupt daily; why should writers? And yet, we guilt ourselves for not performing creativity on a schedule, as if inspiration were a subscription service. What you’ve done instead is far braver: listened to the emptiness, honored the pause, and allowed stillness to do its work. The irony is that the quiet you embraced seems to have been building something loud — a new chapter, new clarity, and new creations. Welcome back. Write daily, weekly, or whenever the fire returns. The cadence doesn’t matter. The authenticity does. And it’s good to see your voice again — it always lands like a calm productivity masterclass disguised as a LinkedIn post.