Not Writing
By Barbara O'Neal | January 28, 2015 |
2014 was a year of great upheaval in my life, death, family divorce, illnesses and hospitalizations, as well as a health chall
enge of my own, requiring a lengthy period of downtime. It happens to all of us. Things come in clusters. And this was a year for my family’s life to be in chaos–and of course because I love them, I showed up.
Here’s the weird thing: somehow, I still managed to write almost 250,000 finished words. That’s a lot, at least for me. Two novels, a novella, and a non-fiction book.
Right? That’s a lot.
I was honestly quite surprised when I tallied the numbers—it all felt hectic and unfocused–rushing here and there, trying to find information for a sick parent, a bereavement flight; trying to find time to just listen to the wounded ones on the phone. Because while work matters, people matter more. Showing up is everything.
I have little memory of doing those pages. What I do remember is going to England in cold, wet January and reading a lot on the planes and in the evenings when we were tired from packing my mother-in-law’s estate all day. I remember worrying about my beloved. I also remember reading five full, long novels on that trip. I didn’t write a word.
In the spring, I finished my Master Class book, but I don’t really remember writing that, either. I do remember driving back and forth to a city 50 miles away to help care for my mother after a fall landed her in the hospital for nearly a month. [pullquote]Not-writing, the reading and gardening and quiet hours flying or resting made it possible for me to write a lot [/pullquote] I remember redecorating a bedroom so she could be on the main floor, and clearing the fridge of food that had gone bad because I was afraid my dad might inadvertently eat the wrong thing. I had to stay overnight a few times and I didn’t do any writing, although I had my notebook with me. I read a lot, probably another few novels.
Over the summer, I spent a lot of time with my granddaughter, mostly hanging out in the garden. Those long, lazy, sunny days eating peas off the vine will stay with me forever, but while we were watering dahlias, I wasn’t writing or even thinking of writing.
When I had knee surgery, I had little concentration to read, but I watched the entire season of Treme, and a few dozen other movies and television shows. It was nearly impossible to do much of anything, so I had the longest non-writing stretch of my adult life—about six weeks. I colored mandalas and listened to music.
The good news is, when there wasn’t some crisis in motion, I somehow wrote a lot of pages. Even if I have no memory of the working days, I did them. More, I’m pleased with the work–I loved Epic as much as anything I’ve written in recent years. But because of all the upheavals, one book had to be finished on an impossibly short deadline—and by some miracle, I made it, with a few days to spare. That never happens!
You see where I’m going with this. It was the not-writing, the reading and gardening and quiet hours flying or resting that made it possible for me to write a lot when I could actually get to the computer.
Why do I always forget that part? Gardening IS writing. So is cooking, experimenting with fresh pickles or that velvety vegetable broth. Toward the end of that mad deadline, I found myself starting a watercolor on the left side of my desk in the morning, painting a layer, then writing for an hour, turning around to add a layer to the painting, then writing some more. It wasn’t planned—I just had to stay in my office and write, and something told me to start a painting. And it was remarkably successful writing time. I was able to stay with it longer each day, with less exhaustion than I usually feel.
So successful, actually, that I’m going to experiment with making it a regular practice. (This morning, I’m working on a color chart, easy squares.) I’m also not going to feel guilty about reading and watching television in the times when I’m not working. I’m going to give myself permission to knock off work—all work, including social media and blogs and email—in the evenings and do whatever feels like fun. Remember fun and relaxation? Those things. If I feel like painting, I’ll paint. If I want to plant flowers, I’ll do that. Take a walk, laze on the couch and read a book or binge on some show I’ve been hearing about.
That’s writing, too. Filling the well is not arty-farty. It’s practical. If I want lots of material, I need time to soak it in, time to let it brew, time to just be in the world.
Do you take time to fill the well? If so, what do you find makes you more productive? If you don’t take time to do it, why not? Does it feel like a luxury? Do time constraints or other people get in your way?
Barbara O’Neal is the author of more than a dozen award-winning, bestselling novels, including the runaway bestseller, When We Believed in Mermaids, which has been published in more than 20 countries and spent many months on the Amazon Charts, as well as the Wall Street Journal, USA Today, and Washington Post bestseller lists. Barbara lives on the beach in rugged Oregon with her husband, a British endurance athlete who vows he’ll never lose his accent and their zoo of cats and dogs. You can find more information on her newsletter and where to find her on social media at barbaraoneal.com.
I know exactly what you mean, Barbara. Sometimes our schedules can be so hectic that we can barely write. There are times when it can even be hard to read. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. I’m having the same problems as you have had. It’s tricky to make time for writing, but I guess it can be done. Thank you for posting this, though. It has given me new perspective on my writing life! :)
Dear Barbara:
Your blog jarred my memory bank – all the family crises that made me a more caring person and better builder of character and characters.
You went through a lot and came out with the realization that you “were” writing, for writing is every moment in life that goes into it: every emotion, experience, decision, sensation is the research you did by living and caring.
Hemingway quoted a lot about “living.” One quote that stands out is:
“All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you; the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was.” Best to you, Ellen
Barbara–
Yes, you had quite a year. It sounds to me as though you deserve a lot of credit, both for managing so many difficult tasks on behalf of others, and for learning (or re-learning) how to “entitle” yourself to let go of burdens and have fun. Reading your chronicle makes me think of an oft-repeated catch phrase: what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger. Or Robert Lowell’s line in a poem, the title of which escapes me: “we either bend or break.”
And there’s another “truth” that the summary of your year makes me think of: a busy, demanding schedule can generate a heightened level of energy and productivity. The time available to you for writing was compressed, and you responded accordingly–look at those stats!
Thanks, Barry. I was really surprised when I realized how much I’d written in spite of everything. Guess sometimes we just do what we have to do.
That’s quite a year and here’s what I see … a person with the right priorities. There was a time when I became so guarded with my writing time that I became a terrible friend and sister. I’ve found that when I do the right thing, the writing falls into place as well, and it flows a lot more easily. That seek ye first the Kingdom of God verse is spot on.
Here’s wishing you a beautiful and balanced 2015, with lots of gardening, painting and writing.
Yes, Vijaya–seek ye first…. thanks for that reminder. I forget, as much as anyone, that by seeking harmony and balance, the work is better, too.
Thank you for this inspirational post, Barbara, and I’m so sorry to hear about your tumultuous year. I am flabbergasted by how much you managed to accomplish, despite that!
It can be so disheartening to get to the end of a particularly busy week and see I’ve written a grand total of four hundred words. I’ve had to accept that some weeks are like that, though, particularly with kids.
Drawing is the best way for me to fill the well, and I don’t take the time to do it nearly enough. No matter the result, there is something soothing about that scratch of pencil on paper, about looking at something or someone and recreating not only what is visible to the eye, but to the mind and heart.
The last time I picked up my drawing pencils came right before a writing retreat where I wrote a staggering amount in a couple of days. I don’t think I would have accomplished that without first clearing my mind of all the clutter by being creative in an entirely different way.
Yes, fill the well. It seems that’s the first thing we forget to do. I speak for myself, anyway. I think as writers, we’re driven people, so its easy to go into overdrive with everything else. And there usually is something else. I’ve had three years of family chaos. Parents, grandchildren, deaths and births. I learned the hard way to sit down and breathe. And to take naps and read more. I also became an early riser, thinking that no one could really need me at four in the morning. Hah.
What I discovered was that because I had less time to dither, I needed to focus and think differently about how I was writing, and that all the emotions that come up around family and illness makes you a deeper richer person, a better writer. You said it all for me this morning with this one sentence. “Because while work matters, people matter more.” Really. And thank you for this post!
I love this. I used to do so much more gardening, painting, quilting, sewing, making mosaics, canning, and redecorating than I do now. The last couple years I felt in too much of a hurry to finish writing projects and get my writing career moving. I need to remember that as long as I am writing, it IS moving. This year I’m committing myself to a pace that is more reminiscent of how I lived before I started writing. People always used to marvel at the things I created and how good I was a relaxing. I need to get that part of life back. Thanks for this thoughtful, freeing post.
It really is so easy to let writing take up all the available space in our lives. The good habit of giving it precedence can sometimes take over and turn us into one note people. Your list of previous activities sounds wonderful, full of color and life and light!
I believe in writing what you know. But how do you do that if you’re not replenishing yourself with new experiences and knowledge. Not only that, but burnout is a problem with writers. You have to take care of yourself.
When I started reading this post I expected it to go in a completely different direction (projecting, I think, my own reality)! I thought you were going to describe how all of these trials and seeming distractions — the work of taking care of others and taking care of yourself and all the emotion that comes with — somehow brought you closer in to your work and fed it, though it seemed otherwise. I’m in the throes of a similar stretch, and that is what I am finding. Late at night, when I’m awake with pain and/or worry, I actually get a lot written.
That said, before the bottom dropped out I — like Erin above — had been pushing and pushing and pushing and trying to get a foothold in this writing world and my priorities were so skewed — which became quite apparent when I was suddenly forced to STOP.
I very much appreciate your reminder.
Kim, having kids at home does take a lot of time, love, and energy, but the truth is, they grow up, so this is time well spent (as you know with your creative brood!). 400 words is 400 words more than the week before.
And of course we all need boundaries, too, but we know in our guts what the main priorities should be and the work goes better if we give those things our time and love.
What IS it about the other creative stuff that primes the pump for words? I have often used photography to get myself going in the morning, especially in the summertime when I shoot so many pictures of flowers. But now, even the smell of the paints starts something humming in my creative centers. I have no idea why, but I’m not going to question something that’s working. Maybe you should get more drawing time in each day–five minutes?
What a lovely post, Barbara. The not-writing part sounded a lot like 2014 for me. The death of my mother-in-law, birth of our first grandchild, publishing a novel I completed early in the year, moving from the house we lived in for 27 years, helping my mother move into a retirement home. I can’t claim to have written 250,000 words, but I did do a lot of blogging, a reader survey, two blog tours, various guest posts, 10 or more book reviews and so on. A good year, in fact, and now I’m back to finishing a novel that has been waiting for my attention at least two years. Life has its ebbs and flows. Many thanks for sharing yours.
This resonates with me. I haven’t had time since school started a week ago to fill the well. There is a lot of freelance work, there is still my daily writing goal and there is schoolwork/reading to be done. I need to slow down a bit and take time out to do something frivolous and fun – read without a page quota, write without a word count, watch a movie without reading email or blogs at the same time. Thank you for the reminder.
Barbara, your 2014 sounds like my 2009 with family illnesses and death. It was after that awful year that I began to write. I’m bookmarking this post for times when I need a kick in the butt to actually sit down and do the writing rather than allow the words to just float in and out of my head like clouds.
I wish you the best in 2015 and look forward to your next post.
This really is a magical post. Thank you :-)
One would think a year with all those rough times would be unproductive in any regard. But you wrote a lot and you created a lot and you learned a lot. So many times gifts come in packages we’d rather not accept – but they are gifts nonetheless.
Yes. Many of us need to rediscover fun – I know I do.
Hugs and good wishes for this coming year. :-)
Absolutely!
If you want to continue to draw from the well, you have to maintain the spring.
Uninterrupted days full of focus are important, but so is investing in life.
I’m not just an author. I’m also a human being. I want to continue having a happy, engaged, fulfilling life.
Balance is key.
It’s hard to stay in the zone when events beyond your control knock you away. Some are ultra sensitive and really don’t bounce back well. But what I hear you whispering here is that even in spite of chaos you redeemed and kept sacred that part of you that creates. Protecting it until you could come back to it. Using other forms of art to bridge you. Thanks for the modeling.
Barbara, yeah, the life stuff, it’s everywhere, in our heads, bodies, past and presents. That’s an amazing story you tell, almost like the writing was channeled out despite yourself. Maybe it too was part of the healing, the quiet amid chaos.
Gardening is writing. Yeah. I’m adding bicycling too.
Barbara-
I wonder if it’s a simple as this: Writing gets easier when you take the pressure off.
Hmm.
Ah Barbara your year sounds a bit like mine. My father in law passed in December and I was already in a bit of a writing funk with all the pressures of life, as well as feeling a tad burnt from turning out one full novel, one novella, and half of a memoir prior to. Like you in your mandalas, I went to crafting my pixies and I became so immersed in it that it was all I wanted to do. Soon I had enough to do local art shows and I realized–maybe I NEED this. It was rejuvenating in such a big way. My mind never stopped working with story ideas, but I didn’t pressure myself to write.
Now, a month later, I’m feeling centered and ready to write again. I’m rediscovering the joy and I’m feeling whole–writing because I want to, not because I’ll shrivel up if I don’t.
I know we’re all different, and some of us need to replenish our wells more than others. I love that you’re letting other writers know that it’s okay to do this, and even encouraged.
Barbara, thank you so much for writing this. Since last autumn I too have gone through a similar crisis — my parents in the hospital at the same time, mom from a fall, dad with lung congestion. He passed away nine days later. The trips back and forth, settling the estate, finding a new place for mom to live…
Books and art were my solace too. I wasn’t as prolific as you, but the crisis was so deep I didn’t bother beating myself up. Right after the Winter Solstice, words started pouring out of me like they’d been gestating through the whole thing. They had. Now I understand!
I can empathize with your situation, Barbara. The health of my elderly parents becomes overwhelming at times. While caring for them, I search for freelance writing gigs, maintain my own blog and work on various creative writing ventures. Last year I finally hired a professional book editor to review my first completed novel. I was readying it further for publication, when my father’s health took a bad turn; he was in the hospital three times between mid-November and the end of December. He’s better now, but it’s been difficult maintaining a writing schedule for new projects. Indeed, family is most important. But I know my stories won’t write themselves, so I have to balance the two. It’s that wonderfully glorious and equally painful journey called life.
Reaching out a hand, Alejandro. My father was in the hospital much of December, too. He’s out and doing much better, finally, but we worry, don’t we? Baby steps on the novel. It will get finished.
Wow! Great inspiration! Our family also had a roller coaster 2014…and 2012, 2013….
It seems like more dips than not. How I managed to write a word is a mystery. Like you said, I don’t even remember the actual writing part. I am in the process of editing my first full novel. Looking to publish this spring.
I totally agree we have to give ourselves a break when we just simply cannot find a hot minute to write. It is tough for me, but I am getting better. I take in as much as possible around me each day. If I think a conversation overheard in the grocery store, or a person walking in the middle of a busy city street, or a little kid crying for unknown reasons in public, might be an idea for a story, I jot it down for later.
Observe, absorb…then write.
JMW
Writing by Not Writing. The chronicle of a year of amazing accomplishments. For truly, the accomplishment is not just in the writing and the word count (awesome as it is) but in going through the challenges of the year with such grace.
And in so doing, writing can become the healing, the “quiet amid chaos.” Just awed by the skill that enabled you to write amidst the chaos.
Wishing you a year of peace and wonder.
Love that, the idea that writing is the healing. Thank you.
Thank you for writing this :) Since I started my daily writing habit back in July, I feel like there is never any time to get everything I want accomplished in a day. As a result, I’ve spent many days right in front of my computer trying to write as much as my hands can stand and work on various projects (learning programming, flash fiction, grammar revisited, blogging) but I’m not living life in a real sense. I am not gathering observations and experiences through relation face to face in “real-time.”
Thank you for this reminder! I was wondering if I could repost/re-blog this on my site.
Permission to repost is not mine to give, Rose, but if you want to post the first paragraph or so and link back to this blog, it would be fine.
It’s also okay to go into immersion sometimes. We all do that. A project takes over everything and you work really hard for awhile, and that’s fine. Sounds like you might be ready for more balance.
Thanks for this. It fits in with my own experience of “the light and the shadow”: all is important to acknowledge and to accept as part of life. Peace and light in 2015.
I really loved and appreciated this post. I’ve only recently come to understand that these days when I am not writing, can’t seem to get started and all part of my process. It’s a break between books when I think I’m ready to go….but it turns out the well still needs some filling up first.
I love what you’re saying, because I often beat myself up for not writing, and not having a strict daily writing schedule that I’ve successfully kept. But you’re right – doing those little things can also inspire us to write, “fill the well”, as you said.
I love that you paint and write together…wow. What a cool idea! I might have to try that.
Thank you for the post. Best wishes to you and yours.
Coloring! I discovered mandalas online last year, printed off a few and bought some nice colored pencils. There’s something so soothing about the order of it all. That’s important to someone like me who likes things to be all lined up in a row. Of course, you’d never guess that from the way my desk looks but I’m on deadline and order goes out the window then. I’ve also bought a condo — my first ever home of my very own without anyone else’s name attached. I’m alternately exhilarated and in a panic. Closing is still 2 months away and I move about 2 weeks after that. I see a lot of coloring in my future. And decorating. I’m so excited about seeing how my things will fit in a new place. I’ve been playing with an online room designer where I can move furniture around with the click of a mouse. Filling the well is something I often forget to do. I probably should make a big sign and post it on the front of the fridge to remind me to fill the well and not my mouth. ;-)
Such a great post, thank you! And such a great output of words — congratulations! I don’t know if I can reach that level of productivity… but I agree that filling the well is essential, and giving ourselves permission to live can only benefit our writing.
What a wise and wonderful post! Too often we demand work and more work from ourselves without letting ourselves unplug, rest, and refill the creative well. Thank you for the reminder.
I’m sorry for your difficult year, and I hope 2015 is easier.