Creative Burnout and Why I’m Pausing The Writing Cooperative After 12 Years

In case you missed it, Alysa Liu won individual figure skating gold last week at the Olympics. Her performance was fun and flawless, but it was her off-ice story that really captivated me and helped me solidify a decision I've long been putting off.

Liu was an early prodigy in the figure skating world. She won her first national championship at 13. Three years later, following a 6th place finish in the 2022 Olympics, Liu retired from the sport.

She was burnt out, tired of the pressure, and wanted to experience life outside of competition. At 16 years old, she wanted to embrace life and explore the world. So, she did. Hearing how she stepped away forced me to confront my own creative burnout.

Fast forward two years and Liu felt the spark — she missed skating and wanted to return to the sport, but this time it'd be on her terms. Liu called her coach and they planned her comeback, one where she picked her music, set her schedules, ate what she wanted, and completely owned her future.

Alysa Liu's return to skating was centered on simply enjoying the experience. Winning or losing didn't matter, she was there to show off her creativity.

"I really don't feel nervous. I don't feel the pressure. There's nothing holding me down or holding me back," she said after the short program in Milan. "I invite it all in. So, no matter what happens, it's a story." [NBC Olympics]

The story ended with another gold medal around her neck and an re-introduction to the world stage. Liu showed that our talents aren’t meant to consume us — they’re meant to bring joy. It was so refreshing to watch.

Creative Burnout After 12 Years

I've been burnt out from my work with The Writing Cooperative for some time. Connecting with writers around the world used to excite me and I'd look forward to reviewing new submissions. Now, with so many writing requests sending passionless prose, it's just work.

After twelve years of building Medium's largest writing-focused publication with hundreds of thousands of viewers and thousands of contributors, I feel like I've read every perspective on writing there is to have. It doesn't help that so much of what I read lacks any kind of personal connection. I don't learn about or connect with the writer in any way, which was the reason I helped create the publication in the first place.

This isn’t just fatigue — it’s the erosion of the connection that made the work meaningful in the first place. What once felt like conversations increasingly feels like content production — and I despise content.

I closed writing requests for the first time in a few years during the month of January. I thought taking a month off from new requests and just reviewing returning submissions might reduce some of the creative burnout. It didn't. Instead, it led to multiple instances where I completely forgot to review articles — that's the complete opposite of sitting down to something you look forward to doing.

A week ago, without a real plan in mind, I notified columnists that I was going to stop accepting submissions sometime in March. This, understandably, led to questions that I needed to figure out how to answer.

What does this mean for the column?
What does this mean for the publication?
Is this a temporary thing or a long-term thing?

A few days later, watching Alysa Liu skate and listening to NBC share her story, I realized that I don't need all the answers — I just need to take a break. So, that's what I'm doing.

I will stop reviewing new submissions for The Writing Cooperative on Sunday, March 1, 2026.

What happens to submissions after March 1?

There is no plan currently in place to hand over general editorial duties to anyone else. I don't know what this means for The Writing Cooperative long-term and I don't know if I will return to it in the future or not — I just know that right now I need to deal with the burnout and step back.

Because I am giving columnist the ability to continue (see the next question), I don't know if I'll be able to stop all submissions to the publication. So this means that anything not reviewed on March 1 will not be reviewed.

The Writing Cooperative has shaped my identity for over a decade — which is why this decision has been so difficult.

This decision does not come lightly — I began exploring options last fall. While I wasn't able to land anything concrete, I realized a few weeks ago that I couldn't keep hanging on forever — at least not in my current mindset.

What about ongoing columns?

Columnist have the option to become publication editors to continue their columns — but they are not reviewing open submissions.

My Write Now interview series will continue to publish in The Writing Cooperative as entries are available.

A few years ago, I reached out to Stephen King's publicist about a Write Now interview. The response said that everything King has to say about writing is contained in his book, On Writing.

After twelve years of blog posts and two versions of a book about writing, I now fully relate with King's stance. I’m not sure what more I can say about writing that I haven’t already said. Like Alysa Liu stepping away at 16, sometimes you reach a point where you’ve said what you needed to say — at least for now.

I will continue writing This Just In, but it will not be solely focused on writing (and hasn't been for a while). I'm enjoying exploring culture and creativity at large and will continue to write about that as inspiration strikes.

If the topic is appropriate, I'll cross-post my newsletter article into The Writing Cooperative. If it's not, you can find me on my website.

What happens next?

The Writing Cooperative has been a big part of my identity for so long and stepping away is scary, but it also feels right.

Watching Alysa Liu having fun on the ice and immediately celebrate with her other competitors, I saw what enjoying your passions is supposed to look like. I was smiling the whole time — reminded of what joy in your craft is supposed to look like. If I return to The Writing Cooperative, I want it to feel like Liu’s comeback — chosen, joyful, and completely my own.

Until that day, keep writing, keep creating, and find ways to keep it fun.