Solitude, I have discovered, is a different kind of teacher. Here's how I finally managed to revise my own novel, and what I learned in the process about craft, life, and loneliness
I loved reading about this week and what it did for you and your creative process (and for your novel)! I have to tell a quick story about one of the times I was doing this kind of work on a novel for a week alone. I was in a small room in a mountain inn that literally clung to the side of the mountain, tucked into the landscape that was layers of mountains and a steep and forested valley. 5 minutes after I checked in and was sitting on the bed cross-legged with printed pages of the novel, laptop, and blank notebook spread out before me, the biggest, closest thunderstorm I’ve ever witnessed erupted about 6 feet outside my windows, which were all wide open. Thunder cracked, lightning forked, rain deluged. When it was over a huge double rainbow appeared. I worked about 18 hours each day on the book, with a near-feverish pace and focus. The main character’s name was Claire. On the second to last day, when I was nearing the end of that major, major revision, I went down to the inn’s office to pick up my breakfast tray. The innkeepers’ daughter, an adorable red-haired three-year-old, made a beeline for me, pulled my hand and towed me across the office and into their back room, a private family space, and held up her doll that had been taking a nap. “This is Claire,” she told me. “She wants me to tell you she loves you.” That absolutely blew my mind. I believe deep creative work opens portals of some kind and it sounds like you found that for yourself on Lake Superior. :)))
Holy shit, Billie!!! That is beautiful. And you know, I think I also worked 18 hours a day. I would get up at 6 and go to bed at 10 and work the whole time, so that is that? I guess 16 hours, but yeah, long long days!! It changes a person and changes the work. Love this story of yours so so much!
I have much more to say, but I just had to tell you how much I needed to hear the line “solitude is a different kind of teacher.” Sending so much love.
Jeannine! You’re such a badass! Your week away sounds perfect. Over here I’m happy to get a few hours of writing and painting before Cooper barks at me full throttle. Hahaha and if I didn’t cook for my husband, I’d live on oatmeal and salads. Pasta and flatbread! I look forward to your new series!
This was such good timing to read this week. I've had to learn some things spending the last week alone (house/cat-sitting for a fellow writing friend in DC), which ultimately culminated in asking my husband to turn his weekend visit into a stay through the rest of my time. Though I had hopes to write more on my memoir in the solitude, my "day job" has proven to be too draining to add to my usual writing schedule. So, I will need the quiet of taking actual time off to commit next time. Saving this post for when I can do that in future!
I can absolutely resonate with this. It has to be gone into, I think, with the advance planning that "this is what this time is for," i.e., a very clear immutable intention, and with the full knowledge that the solitude might not feel great (it didn't to me) and yet might still be a very (very, very) good thing and therefore wholly worth enduring! Good luck! I hope you wll let me know how it goes!
There is a stage of revision in long form work where I do what I call “pulling through the silver threads” that I can only do in a setting where I can totally live and breathe the book without anything else intervening. It’s tough to find that space and time but it’s the only way I can do that level of revision - it has to be started and finished in one continuous time/space. Which reminds of me of John Gardner’s “vivid continuous dream.”
First - Jeannine - so happy for you and inspired by ypur ability to focus. Truly. Good on you!
Confession: the small Wisconsin cavin we bought five years ago was always intended(by me) to be my writers retreat, and I love it. Last year two family members had a life-threatening health crisis, so I was barely here in June and July, and one of those was my mom who had surgery and is doing much better this summer. She loves to be outside at the cabin to pick up Stix, garden, weed, which she cannot do in her condo.
And I cannot write a thing while she is anywhere on this property or in the cabin. At least nothing good or true Yikes. She likes to come up when I am going up a Lone, too, probably to keep me out of trouble. I am 66.
Sunday, I’ll miss her so much when she’s not here with me at the cabin but right now, I have to make excuses to go to town to sit in the coffee shop if I want to write. Kind of crazy. Taking any and all ideas except to tell you she is 100% Swedish descent and direct conversation. It’s not in her wide skillset.
Oh, I can so relate to this. With me, it's not my mom ... but the family ties with others are real, and I need to honor those. And I also ... need to write!!
I loved reading about this week and what it did for you and your creative process (and for your novel)! I have to tell a quick story about one of the times I was doing this kind of work on a novel for a week alone. I was in a small room in a mountain inn that literally clung to the side of the mountain, tucked into the landscape that was layers of mountains and a steep and forested valley. 5 minutes after I checked in and was sitting on the bed cross-legged with printed pages of the novel, laptop, and blank notebook spread out before me, the biggest, closest thunderstorm I’ve ever witnessed erupted about 6 feet outside my windows, which were all wide open. Thunder cracked, lightning forked, rain deluged. When it was over a huge double rainbow appeared. I worked about 18 hours each day on the book, with a near-feverish pace and focus. The main character’s name was Claire. On the second to last day, when I was nearing the end of that major, major revision, I went down to the inn’s office to pick up my breakfast tray. The innkeepers’ daughter, an adorable red-haired three-year-old, made a beeline for me, pulled my hand and towed me across the office and into their back room, a private family space, and held up her doll that had been taking a nap. “This is Claire,” she told me. “She wants me to tell you she loves you.” That absolutely blew my mind. I believe deep creative work opens portals of some kind and it sounds like you found that for yourself on Lake Superior. :)))
Holy shit, Billie!!! That is beautiful. And you know, I think I also worked 18 hours a day. I would get up at 6 and go to bed at 10 and work the whole time, so that is that? I guess 16 hours, but yeah, long long days!! It changes a person and changes the work. Love this story of yours so so much!
I have much more to say, but I just had to tell you how much I needed to hear the line “solitude is a different kind of teacher.” Sending so much love.
Oh my gosh and to you too!
Jeannine! You’re such a badass! Your week away sounds perfect. Over here I’m happy to get a few hours of writing and painting before Cooper barks at me full throttle. Hahaha and if I didn’t cook for my husband, I’d live on oatmeal and salads. Pasta and flatbread! I look forward to your new series!
This was such good timing to read this week. I've had to learn some things spending the last week alone (house/cat-sitting for a fellow writing friend in DC), which ultimately culminated in asking my husband to turn his weekend visit into a stay through the rest of my time. Though I had hopes to write more on my memoir in the solitude, my "day job" has proven to be too draining to add to my usual writing schedule. So, I will need the quiet of taking actual time off to commit next time. Saving this post for when I can do that in future!
I can absolutely resonate with this. It has to be gone into, I think, with the advance planning that "this is what this time is for," i.e., a very clear immutable intention, and with the full knowledge that the solitude might not feel great (it didn't to me) and yet might still be a very (very, very) good thing and therefore wholly worth enduring! Good luck! I hope you wll let me know how it goes!
There is a stage of revision in long form work where I do what I call “pulling through the silver threads” that I can only do in a setting where I can totally live and breathe the book without anything else intervening. It’s tough to find that space and time but it’s the only way I can do that level of revision - it has to be started and finished in one continuous time/space. Which reminds of me of John Gardner’s “vivid continuous dream.”
Yes, yes, exactly that. But it is so hard for me in my life to get that space. This was really a big deal!
First - Jeannine - so happy for you and inspired by ypur ability to focus. Truly. Good on you!
Confession: the small Wisconsin cavin we bought five years ago was always intended(by me) to be my writers retreat, and I love it. Last year two family members had a life-threatening health crisis, so I was barely here in June and July, and one of those was my mom who had surgery and is doing much better this summer. She loves to be outside at the cabin to pick up Stix, garden, weed, which she cannot do in her condo.
And I cannot write a thing while she is anywhere on this property or in the cabin. At least nothing good or true Yikes. She likes to come up when I am going up a Lone, too, probably to keep me out of trouble. I am 66.
Sunday, I’ll miss her so much when she’s not here with me at the cabin but right now, I have to make excuses to go to town to sit in the coffee shop if I want to write. Kind of crazy. Taking any and all ideas except to tell you she is 100% Swedish descent and direct conversation. It’s not in her wide skillset.
Hey, the word Sunday I’ll miss her should have been someday I will miss her she will, of course, be here, Sunday. ;-)
Oh, I can so relate to this. With me, it's not my mom ... but the family ties with others are real, and I need to honor those. And I also ... need to write!!
I just ordered your book! Can't wait to read it. What a title! Thank you so much for this posting, Jeannine.
Oh my, thank you! I love to hear that, and I hope you like it. It's not pretty but hopefully there's beauty. Thank you again!
Right? It is so hard not to have them in my head when they are Right.There. Solitude. Golden.
I'm knee deep in revision too. I'm envious of your week, sounds like writing heaven. Thanks for sharing how it helped.