Get Me Out of Here
By Kathleen McCleary | August 24, 2020 |
Flickr Creative Commons: Tim Geers
If there’s a Church of Emotional Truth in Writing, I’m a founding member. “Write the truest version” is my mantra, and I’ve written novels exploring fear and loss and shame and passion and love and I’ve written essays on the importance of vulnerability in writing. Yet as I struggled with the start of a new novel recently, I realized that I don’t really want to write my emotional truth right now, because I am in a dark and difficult place, as many of us are. All I really want is to be somewhere, anywhere, else. Give me an escape.
Since mid-March, I have watched the entire Lord of the Rings extended edition movies all the way through (twice!). I’ve seen all three seasons of the British sitcom Miranda (also twice). I’ve read ten or more novels (who can keep track of anything these days?) that have taken me from 1960s Louisiana (Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half) to Narnia (yes, I re-read C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) to mid-20th-century New York (Colm Toibin’s Brooklyn).
But here’s the thing: escape has not dulled my need to create. “To make art is to wake up in a state of craving, a craving to discharge resentment, rage…And the making of art has a curative effect. A tension you are under disappears, dramatically.” (A comment by visual artist Louise Bourgeois, as quoted by writer Jamie Attenberg in one of her #1000wordsofsummer blogs).
And it’s true. I may long to immerse myself in the respite of other eras and other worlds, but I still have to live right now in this one. And as writers we have the ability to escape into the worlds we create and what’s more, to bring others with us. Writer Ursula K. LeGuin wrote (echoing a remark by Tolkien), “…fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don’t we consider it his duty to escape? The moneylenders, the know-nothings, the authoritarians have us all in prison; if we value the freedom of the mind and soul, if we’re partisans of liberty, then it’s our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can.”
So I am escaping, but I’m also creating. I’m writing poetry, a new discipline for me. I’m working on the opening pages of a novel that has elements of magical realism, a new genre for me. I’m cooking more frequently which, believe me, is an act of creation. All those things transport me someplace else. Is there value in escape? I believe so, for these reasons:
It provides perspective. Yes, these are hard times. But they are hardly the hardest times. Read (or write!) about the 1918 flu pandemic, the Civil War, or the plague (one of my favorite reads is Sigrid Undset’s Kristin Lavransdatter, about a woman in 14th-century Norway). Stories of how people have faced catastrophe and endured or even bloomed are road-maps of a sort for all of us now.
It offers respite. We are all pandemic-weary. Some of us are mourning those who have died, struggling with the after-effects of illness, facing economic hardship, fearing getting sick, and missing such simple pleasures as hugging a friend or sitting at the bar in a crowded restaurant for a drink and company. Give yourself a mental and emotional break from all that.
It fosters gratitude. Here’s an escape exercise: Imagine you have 24 hours in which the world is back to normal, in which the pandemic has never existed. How do you spend those hours? What do you do first? How many of those things are things you never even realized were meaningful before now? My imaginary no-pandemic day includes a lot of hugging (my grown daughters, my friends); dinner crowded around a table with people I love, sharing food and laughter; celebrating my niece’s bat mitzvah or my friend’s wedding at a big, raucous party, with lots of hugging and dancing; and getting onto an airplane to travel someplace I’ve always wanted to see. I had no idea how much those things meant to me before.
It stretches your boundaries. As I’ve mentioned, it can be hard to do the things we’ve always done these days, whether it’s writing or exercising or eating well. If you’re stuck writing fiction, write a poem, a memory, a personal essay. Make art. Do something that pushes you outside your comfort zone a little. It will make you better when you do go back to practicing your usual craft.
So, dear reader, I am telling you: Get yourself out of here. Write every glowing thing you love about our pre-pandemic world. Create your own Middle Earth or Westeros or Oz. Transport yourself (and your readers) to 17th century France, Shackleton’s Antarctica, Egypt under Nefertiti. And don’t feel guilty about any of it. Good luck. I’m right there with you.
What do you think about escape and creativity? What forms of escape have you pursued over these last six months? How has it affected your writing?
[coffee]
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (https://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she’s not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
That Louise Bourgeois quote is pure gold!
My escape exercise: I buy airplane tickets for everyone, and we meet in the US Virgin Islands. I hug and hug and hug my kids, for however many minutes we have left.
My need to escape hit hard this spring. It was the end of the world as we knew it, and I did not feel fine. So I turned off the news and became fully absorbed in my work-in-progress (which hadn’t been “in progress” very much at all). It was sanity saving. I also finally learned how to bake a loaf of bread, with lots of trial and error. Next up: pasta.
My husband and I doubled-down on binge-watching series on television, all genres, and analyzing them on the other side of each episode. He’s a writer, too, and we both appreciate the deep dive, which I think fuels creativity for us in different ways.
Thanks for this post, Kathleen. I needed it. Stay safe, and write on.
I love the idea of putting binge-watching to productive use, Therese. That’s brilliant! Yes, good to know I’m not alone in my desire to escape. xo
Hey Kathleen, really useful and reassuring post. And I really love reading the LeGuin quote. For me, it’s helpful to think of doing my work as a sort of innate duty.
The set of scenes I’m working on in my (epic fantasy) WIP feature my protagonist in the crowded marketplace of a foreign city (an alt-historical version of Roman Ephesus). He’s uncomfortable, feels unsafe. There’s literally danger all around. He witnesses a jarring injustice (children of his Gothic tribe being auctioned on the slave block). His Greek friend and guide insists that there’s nothing that can be done–it’s just the way things are (It is what it is?). His friend assures him that, in time, maybe something can be done to effect change, but not just then.
The scene culminates with another character, his love interest, being harassed by the equivalent of imperial police. He tries to intervene, and becomes a target of their abuse. Plus, he’s only worsened the situation for her. They’re only rescued when their friend rushes over and reassures the vigiles that the couple are his property. Only by feigning the role of slaves are they finally released.
This pass is a revision of scenes first drafted a couple of years ago. And I’ve never felt his helplessness and outrage as powerfully as I did this time.
These scenes, combined with your post, and the LeGuin quote, remind me why I love historical fantasy so much. It provides a clean break from the here-and-now so that I can truly and fully SEE the here-and-now. If that makes any sense. It makes the ‘duty’ I mention all the more vital. And the distance and vicarious initiative I gain offers me some measure of peace each evening.
Thanks for sending me on my way back there with renewed zeal.
Hi, Vaughn. I love your comment here and as I was reading about the scenes you describe in your WIP I felt an instant sense of recognition to current events. Channeling powerlessness and outrage into your writing is obviously exactly what gives it that emotional truth we all want to achieve in our work, whether it takes place in present-day Washington, D.C. or alt-historical Ephesus. And this is spot-on: “It provides a clean break from the here-and-now so that I can truly and fully SEE the here-and-now.” Absolutely makes sense. Wonderful. Thanks for writing and good luck.
Is it strange that I can’t remember much anymore about those first couple months when I never left the house except to run the livestream the worship service with a half dozen people in an otherwise empty sanctuary? I know I baked. I kept working. I fretted about whether my son was getting anything out of online school. I watched it snow for half of April. APRIL!
I suppose I escaped during much of May and June by working out in the yard. Not “working out” in the yard but working “out in the yard.” Lots of digging, weeding, transplanting, watering. Physical stuff, because mentally I was too cluttered to do much of value.
I am still fighting for focus. And I am for real escaping next month to hold up in a hotel for five days so I can be alone (gloriously alone) and write.
Our school district told us that it’s going to be online for most (if not all) of the school year. We worry about online learning too, but the social issues are something their whole generation will need to reckon with. The teenagers especially.
I have a funny mental picture of teenage boys sitting outside my house like alley cats. “Can your daughter come meowt.” :)
“I have a funny mental picture of teenage boys sitting outside my house like alley cats. “Can your daughter come meowt.” :)”
You made me snort my tea.
I’ve met your daughter. That could happen.
It kinda has already Leslie.
One boy has rode his bicycle over to say ‘Hi’ at a reasonable distance.
Hope you’re doing well.
Oh, Erin, I think none of us can remember those first couple months or even last week, because the days blend together so. I think physical stuff (gardening, working out, walking, house cleaning) is a salvation these days. And you’re in good company in fighting for focus–I do that every day. Hope your real escape is productive and restorative!
Thank you for the inspiration, Kathleen.
Wherever fiction takes us, we’re always improved by the journey, and that’s true if we are provoked, persuaded, or peacefully entertained.
Exactly, James. You said it beautifully (and I love the alliteration). Thanks for your comment.
Funny that you mention Nefertiti. I’m writing book 3 of a time-slip adventure trilogy for middle-grade about telepathic twins who time travel to the 18th dynasty of Egypt to save their grandmother’s sentient stately home – the guardian of time, built atop the successive ruins of prehistoric Britain.
Thank you for your timely post.
Hi, Veronica. What a terrific premise for a trilogy, offering all kinds of escape. It sounds like a great escape for reader and author–time travel, telepathic twins, Egypt, and present-day Britain. I’m on board for all of that! Thanks for your comment.
Hi, Veronica. Your trilogy sounds terrific and like the ultimate escape–time travel, telepathy, twins, ancient Egypt, modern-day Britain–I’m on board for all of it. I’m glad you’ve found such a great outlet for your creativity right now. I hope the writing goes well, and I look forward to reading it.
Well knock me over with a feather that you saw Tolkien. You’ve been holding out on me lady!
And if you think LeGuin is quotable, try the Earthsea series and you will NOT be disappointed.
Everything you said about escape, yep, I’m here for all of it. Brava.
Oh, Will, I must have watched The Lord of the Rings movies two dozen times since they were released. We all could use a little courage in the face of hardship and scary times right now. I will try the Earthsea series. Thanks for the recommendation!
Kathleen, I’ve been watching lots of Bollywood films. Total escape. But remember I told you I was working on shorts? Take a look! Guaranteed to make you smile: https://bodachbooks.blogspot.com/p/short-stories.html
I have two more I’m playing with. I love fun projects like these. And they make perfect little gifts for the grandparents :) Plus, I’m learning lots. It’s also a good diversion from the serious historical.
Oh, Vijaya, your short books look absolutely charming. What a heart-warming, soul-restoring project to work on in these crazy times! And you’re learning new skills. I look forward to reading these, and best of luck.
Thank you, Kathleen. I love the way you put it–it’s been truly soul-restoring.
Hi Kathleen, such honesty in this post, as if you had called me and said you needed to talk, and I wound tell you that during the spring, writing was my truly great escape. And the words flowed, though come six o’clock we watched the news which got worse by the day. And then we sold our townhouse and left California, and are now back in Chicago. I don’t recommend moving during a pandemic. But we did it. Soon I’ll be writing again, once the boxes are emptied. But I do yearn for those hours when I forget about the real world and live once again in the ones I create. Yet there is always that awareness—things are just not as they should be. Will that bleed into the art being created right now? Yes.
Wow, Beth. You’re brave to do a major move in the midst of all this. And I think you’re right that the awareness we all have that things are not as they should be right now (in many ways) can’t help but color all the creating we do right now, because it’s the emotional truth of our lives. It will be interesting in a few years to see the books and movies and paintings and sculpture and plays and music that were created during this year. I hope you get back to your writing soon!! Thanks for the insightful comment.
The first couple of mind-numbing months brought depression. On the other side was determination. I vowed to reinvent my life for the new normal I couldn’t escape because of health issues. My escape, then, became my passion. As a fantasy writer, where better to escape to than my own world? In this case, a world more like the Roaring Twenties than knights of old. Also a world that examines difficult individual and social issues. My productivity has soared to new heights. The time I have now was purchased with damaged lungs a decade ago. It was time to cash in.
Christina, what an inspirational story. Thanks for writing. And the Roaring Twenties is perfect, coming as they did after the bleak days of WWI and the flu pandemic. I bet you don’t have to reach far to imagine the sense of liberation and even recklessness that came after such hard times. It sounds like the perfect escape. So glad you’re so productive! Best of luck.
I was lucky enough to actually, physically, escape to Maine for almost 2 weeks of isolated cruising. Though that’s a “normal” annual thing for my husband and me, this year I pictured taking all of you (and all of my sailing friends too) with me, because I knew and appreciated what a rare thing travel is in 2020.
Now that I’m back, my WIP is moving forward again too. Another example of how getting away from my desk is the best way to get back into the story again. As we look ahead to a stay-at-home fall, I really appreciate this reminder that simple things (binge-watching, baking) can also provide the needed escape. Thank you!
How wonderful that you were able to escape for real, Carol. And yes, if ever there was a time to be compassionate and tolerant of ourselves, it’s now. Binge-watching and baking are terrific escapes. Best of luck to you on your WIP!
Two things struck me: that despite the countless posts here and elsewhere on pandemic coping, they’re all different and we still need them. And so many people seem to have been in exactly the same place I was for the first couple of months, which is paralyzed, anxiety-ridden and able to accomplish less than usual, despite having more time.
Once I got beyond my inertia, I have done a whole lot of soul searching and followed that up with some recent reorganization, including jettisoning a client that was a steady source of income. Seems counter-intuitive at this tenuous time of economic uncertainty, but he was the most stressful and time-consuming part of my life. I have other clients and have to believe I’m opening up a space for better things to enter.
In recent months, I’ve also been consistently writing and have achieved the “habit” stage of this activity where I’m chomping at the bit to get back to it. I am grateful every day for what I have and mindful to make the most of it.
I love hearing about your journey through these last crazy six months, Deborah. I think we’ve all passed through various stages of anxiety, depression, boredom, grief, gratitude, etc. And how brave to decide to stop working with a difficult client! Kudos to you. And you are so smart to create a habit of writing–and to approach each day with gratitude. Thanks so much for writing.
Hi Kathy,
Thank you for this. I was writing this morning and the struggle is real.
It’s nice to know that others are in real and imagined trenches with you.
Sending you and your family lots of love.
Hi, Brette. How great to hear from you, how good to know you’re writing (and yes, the struggle is real), and how gratifying to know the column resonated with you. Lots of love right back to you and your family, and good luck with your writing.
Absolutely loved this. I wrote a novel about a fabulous Upper West Side apartment all through pandemic. There are lots of family dynamics and an old crime, and it was positively delicious to be there instead of here.
Thanks, Barbara. Your novel sounds delicious. What a wonderful escape! Hope I get to read it one day.
Someone else who adores both Miranda and Kristin Lavransdatter? I didn’t realise we are soul sisters!
Thanks for this post. I’m a great believer in rest cures, and what could be more restful than to escape into a great story?
Now THAT is amazing, Barbara. Soul sisters, indeed. Thanks for your comment, and all the best.
I nearly teared up reading about your “imaginary no-pandemic day.” Sometimes I think I’m doing fine and things are not *terribly* different in my life. Then I read things like that, and I realize how much I’m missing… (How much we’re all missing.)
Thanks, Kristan. I know. Big hugs.