A Well-Deserved Expression of Gratitude
By Jeanne Kisacky | March 9, 2018 |
It’s after he’s asked me the question for the third time that I stop following the developing plot line in my thoughts, mentally plug back in to reality, and replay the words that have been spoken repeatedly in my direction.
“Can you pick up dinner on the way home?”
It’s an easy question, with an easy answer, which I give him right away. He’s used to living with a writer, so instead of an argument about my lack of attention, he just gives me an eye roll and a heavy sigh because it took three tries to get that simple answer. Only three. Not five. Or six.
But then, he’s used to the perils of living with a writer.
All the writers that I know have supporters–the people who enable them emotionally, intellectually, professionally, and even financially–to continue the quest for a life as a writer. I’ve had many conversations with other writers that express gratitude for what these supporters provide. I’ve seen many similar posts in the WU Facebook group. Sometimes, however, it is good to acknowledge our supporters—whoever they may be—directly, and to recognize them for their patience and at times bottomless good humor. Below is my gratitude list, acknowledging what my supporters deal with.
If you see yourself in any of these situations, then please take the time today to say thank you to one of your supporters.
Could you Ask that Again?
There are periods in writing when the work takes over a writer’s consciousness. Some call it ‘immersion,’ or ‘flow,’ or being ‘in the moment’. Whatever you call it, it means a writer is more deeply enmeshed in his or her thoughts than in the surrounding physical world. This complicates planning daily existence. It is why my supporter asks me the same question three or more times before getting an answer. And that can get frustrating very quickly. Over the years we’ve learned to minimize arguments with a simple strategy. I tell my supporter when I’m at a stage that requires me to go deep and get lost in my fictive world. This lets him know that slow answers don’t mean I’m ignoring him and he can be more patient. Then he’s able to wait until I plug back in to reality before he asks the question. He isn’t repeating himself, and I’m not feeling neglectful.
Seesaw Confidence.
Friday, 9am. Comment to supporter—I just finished re-reading what I wrote last night and it’s brilliant. I’m genius. I’m the next great writer.
Friday, 9 pm. Comment to supporter—I just re-read what I wrote this morning and it’s dreck. I’ll never finish this. I can’t write. I should just give up this crazy idea and live a normal life. There’s nothing wrong with just living.
Your supporters put up with this emotional and spiritual rollercoaster on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis. It’s draining to watch, draining to try to figure out how to respond, or how to stay out of it. And yet they do. And they often develop responses that are more than hollow reassurances or exasperated affirmations of your brilliance. Thank them for it!
I’m sorry I can’t do that, I need to write.
Scenario: You are a writer. Your supporter invites you to a movie or to an event that you’ve been wanting to do together, or that you used to do together all the time, and you say no. Because you ‘have to write.’ You say no to everything, even fun activities, so that you can have ‘time to write.’ This can last for hours, days, weeks, months. You, the writer, can’t plan any breaks in your schedule, because you are immersed in your story. And if pressed to limit your writing time—say like scheduling it as an event on the calendar to ensure you get undisturbed time—then you are unable to decide if 4 hours, or even 8 hours is really enough. You miss out on even basic, everyday things so that you can write. Sometimes these are just stupid little things, but sometimes they are big important things. Writing is a job, and should be treated as such. And sometimes work needs to take precedence over leisure. But a writer’s ‘job’ is relentless. You are writing in your head if you are not writing on the computer or on paper. It is part of you. And sometimes, you need to say yes. Yes, I’ve had enough time to write, let’s go for a picnic. Thank you for asking.
I’m sorry, you can’t do that, I need to write.
Believe it or not, I have asked my supporter to delay doing something he wanted to do all his life because it would disrupt my writing. Because when I am deep into writing, I develop a fear, almost a phobia, that any change in my daily existence will disrupt that immersion. This need for stasis can be difficult on people who live in that reality. Of course my supporter did what he wanted to do, that was never really the issue. The issue was my need for some sense of stability. Before he left, he helped me manage the disruption. We set up a plan to keep my daily schedule as normal as possible while he was away.
How about you? Can you pinpoint another peril of life with a writer? Can you offer a coping mechanism for it? Have you thanked your supporters recently for putting up with it? Or helping you deal with it?
Image Credit: By Giligone (My own work using a Sony a 200) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (https://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons
[coffee]
Jeanne Kisacky trained to be an architect before going back to her first love–writing. She studied the history of architecture, has written and published nonfiction, and has taught college courses. She is the author of Rise of the Modern Hospital: An Architectural History of Health and Healing, 1870-1940.
My supporter – the husband – gets thanked all the time. He shoulders everything I can’t do (due to illness), and I can write – if my brain will cooperate that day.
I will do things I can’t really do/shouldn’t do – if he needs me to. The cost has been high, but I have to feel I can give something back. Long story, but this year it cost me two weeks of the flu.
I will dedicate each of my books to him. It’s ironic, though: he doesn’t read fiction.
Writing is the thing that keeps me sane; that’s better for both of us.
Alicia — your last line “Writing is the thing that keeps me sane; that’s better for the both of us” hits the nail on the head. There are times where I wonder why my supporter (also the husband) continues to support this crazy habit of mine, but as he says, I am better after I write. And there is something to be said for that.
You wouldn’t be able to stand me if I couldn’t get back to my writing, as much work as it is. There are very few things I can do with my time, and no other ones I would care to than writing. I am noticeably grouchier on those days when my limited energy goes to such things as talking to the online prescription service or the IRS.
Jeanne, you pretty much rang every bell here. My husband has put up with everything you mentioned, as have relatives and close friends. Me saying no to almost everything. Me in immersion. I realize that it’s a gift to be able to immerse, and that it wouldn’t be possible without my husband’s help. “…this need for stasis can be really difficult on people who live in that reality.” That’s so beautifully said. I don’t know if I could be as understanding as he is. Thanks for the reminder to express gratitude! And for talking about this in the first place because it’s really really important!
Susan — you describe this support as a gift, and it is one of the most valuable gifts imaginable.
Hey Jeanne – What a lovely idea. Gratitude is such an affirming and positive force, and I can’t think of anyone more deserving than those who support not just the arts, but the dreams of those they love.
I’ve spoken about my wife’s role in my writing journey quite a bit, but I feel like I can never adequately convey her importance to it. There are so many aspects to the subject, including her having been my original inspiration. One of the roles I don’t often mention is one your seesaw metaphor brings to mind. She’s the Stabilizer-in-Chief around here. Her belief in me and in my work is so stalwart, she’s like a built-in anti-self-doubt mechanism. She won’t hear it, shuts it down and buoys me whenever she senses its presence (which she detects amazingly well).
Quick example of her stabilizing instincts and capabilities. Many years ago, when I first started getting written critiques from people I admire, she started a tradition of printing the critiques out and highlighting the good stuff. I mean actually taking a highlighting pen and outlining every single positive sentence. She does this on her own, usually when I’m walking on the beach sulking. She began doing this because she simply knew I would focus on the negatives. And she’s continued to this day. See what I mean by stabilizing?
I suppose another aspect of her support that strikes me today is its durability. Her belief in my work isn’t just unshakable, it’s incredibly enduring. I’ve known for decades that together we can do most anything we set our minds and wills on. But over the course of those decades, she’s shown me how to believe in myself. And her stalwart belief in my writing has persevered for well over a decade now. It’s integral to my own perseverance.
It’s humbling. It’s rooted in love. And the only way I can possibly express my deep and eternal gratitude for her love and support is to do my best to return it, in every way possible. Thanks for this most vital of reminders, Jeanne.
Vaughn, I love the ‘Stabilizer-in-Chief’ title, and I have a very happy image of her with a highlighter and your critiques, making sure you see the positives! I think all you have to do today is let her read what you wrote and she will get her well-earned enduring expression of gratitude!
There’s an ongoing joke my husband (who is my supporter) makes about how often I forget to clean out the French press. He’s gotten used to coming home to find tasks half-finished or things I promised to do that haven’t been done at all because I got distracted.
Suzanna–Oh Yes — the house full of half-finished things. That is definitely a hallmark of life with a writer.
Thank you for writing this. Expressing gratitude to those around you is important. As I wrote on my Facebook page when I linked to this article: “Besides thanking them for their support and understanding, another useful strategy is to let them know you’re in another world and can’t really engage right now, but that you love them and are not in a bad mood.” I think of being in my fictional worlds as a trance state (although I know nothing about hypnosis). I wonder whether scientists have shed any light on how the brain waves of writers in this altered state compare to the brain waves of other creative people, as well practitioners of intense prayer, meditation, etc. If anyone has read about this, please let me know.
Christine–I think trance state is pretty good description of what the sense of ‘flow’ is like. I don’t know of any scientific studies. But I think posting a thank you to Face Book is a good reaction.
I’m inspired to re-read Csikszentmihalyi, thanks to you. :)
I don’t have a supporter for my writing. But, I would love to get one.
Tina–In my post, I meant to refer to supporters broadly–including other writers, friends, family members, even co-workers–not just spouses, although the comments have drifted toward spousal supporters. If you really feel you have no supporters, and you would love to get one, check out local writing groups. I met a number of ‘supporter’ friends by doing just that, even though showing up at that first meeting was terrifying because I did not really feel like a writer and knew that I was the one person in the room who would just not fit. I was wrong, thankfully so. The WU Facebook group also serves many as a source of support, providing access to a community. I had actually assumed there would be multiple posts thanking that group in particular!
My husband is patient and supportive during the initial writing phase, but he doesn’t stop there. He’s also generous with his time, skills, and (limited) energy in the areas of beta-reading, proof-reading, typesetting, formatting and general technology-wrangling.
I really couldn’t do this without him. He’s a treasure, and I try to remind him of it frequently.
It’s just me now. Me, Myself, and my Lil Wonky-Toothed Dawg here in my Lil Log House.
However, as I write that, I know that I have supporters who have cheered me on and given me strength and made me feel as if I’m not so alone in this reclusive writing life: my friends and family, and my readers.
Gratitude, yes.