White Space
By Liz Michalski | September 22, 2023 |
My youngest left for college this month and we are officially empty nesters. It’s a crazy time, both exciting and bittersweet. I wander around the house, peeking in empty bedrooms, folding shirts just so I can smell them, wondering how a home that a few weeks ago felt so loud and overcrowded can suddenly be so quiet.
My writing is quiet too. I stare at the page, waiting for the words to come, but they are hiding just out of reach. I can almost see them, shimmering in the space in front of me, dreamlike and perfect in a way they never stay when I capture them.
But for now the page, like my house, is still.
A friend called me last night to check in. She asked how I was doing, reminded me it was ok to mourn, for a little bit, the end of this stage of life that has been my focus for 22 years. Reminded me too that people had been in my space, both physical and mental, for a very long time, and it would take some readjusting to get used to the change.
“Don’t think of it as empty,” she said. “Think of it as waiting to be filled with new adventures and things you love.”
A tiny shift, yet it helped, both for life and for writing. Until I can catch and keep those shimmery words that dance beyond my grasp, how do I want to curate my mental space? And what adventures do I want to have on the page when the words return?
After my friend’s call, I made a list. Two lists, actually. A life list, and a writing list, both full of ideas and adventures to look forward to and to stretch me. I’m sharing the writing list here.
Read more. It’s the first bit of advice you receive when you say you want to be a writer, isn’t it? You can’t write if you don’t read, the saying goes, and it’s true. I do read, mostly in my genre right now, and I want to open that up. I want to catch the rhythm of poetry, to see how mystery writers plot, to build friction and burn with romance novelists, to marvel at the pathos and the joy from the best biographers. But also want to simply lose myself in a new story, to sink from this world beneath the pages of a fictional one, to immerse myself fully and silence the internal craftsman who is constantly dissecting the works of others.
Dream more. It’s been so crazy the last few years that finding quiet time for reflection, for gazing at the night stars and dozing under the hot sun, letting ideas flit like butterflies through my head, has been difficult, if not impossible. Ideas for books, for plots, for characters, time and empty space to grow. I’m blocking out space on my calendar to do nothing and see what develops, both in my mind and, with luck, on those blank pages.
Engage more. Off the screen, into the world, with flesh and blood people. With dogs. With meadows and mountains and beaches. Quietly in coffee shops, eavesdropping on conversations for lines I can steal. Loudly at concerts, yelling and screaming with thousands of other fans until the ground rumbles and my solar plexus buzzes with the energy and the noise and I can capture that sensation for the characters in my story. Tasting, smelling, touching, listening to as much as I can in this world, so that I and my pages both fill up. Until we are no longer empty.
Until we are full.
Now it’s your turn. What is your mental space like these days, and how do you fill it?
Liz Michalski’s (she/her) second novel, Darling Girl, was published in 2022 by Dutton. Her first novel, Evenfall, was published by Berkley Books (Penguin). Liz has been a reporter, an editor, and a freelance writer. In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and oversized show dogs. These days she’s downsized to one husband, two children and a medium-sized mutt.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09BTBXW4Q?ref_=cm_sw_r_ffobk_cp_ud_dp_QP5D5323DJE70W0SVQDJ&skipTwisterOG=1&bestFormat=true&newOGT=1
Oh, Liz… I know that new-empty-nester feeling so well. I coped by alphabetizing my spice rack. Maybe put that on your list? : ) I can’t wait to read whatever your new adventures inspire you to write. See you in November?
We’re starting big with the garage but I’m sure we will get to the spice rack. Thanks, and can’t wait to see you!
Yes–white space and space in a once-filled house leaves room for so many possibilities. Enjoy them all.
What lovely uses for the downtime we so rarely allow ourselves. Enjoy, Liz.
Liz, it’s exactly what I’m doing more of with greater time for leisure. Enjoy this space and time in your life.
Liz:
I came to your post after reading a reflection by a local organic farmer on the occasion of the autumnal equinox (Sept. 23 in this hemisphere, for those of you scoring at home). Writers and farmers, have a lot in common: after the rush of summer planting, watering, weeding, and harvesting, winter is a relatively quiet time to catch up on other chores and let the seeds planted int the greenhouse for early spring crops germinate and sprout. In farming as in writing, there’s always something productive to do, always something below the surface waiting to come to light.
I’m kind of in the opposite position right now and could use a spell of blank canvas. But I understand that mixture of fear, uncertainty, and burgeoning excitement. It can be wonderful to have a chance to reinvent ourselves.
Hi, Liz. I hope you are doing well. I find lately that my mental bandwidth doesn’t have any room for fiction writing. I am teaching two journalism courses this fall at a local university and I have a part-time job editing a trade journal. By the time I have a few free minutes, my brain is fried. I do like your suggestions. I always finds time to read, no mattter how busy I am. I also pay attention to conversations going on around me, a great way to come up with dialogue and scenes. I loved, “Darling Girl,” and I can’t wait for your next novel.
Being aware of what is going on, and being said, around you is a great way to pick up dialogue and even story ideas. Got an entire short story out of a lunch at a small diner where I saw two elderly men having lunch. The way the waitress greeted them, it was obvious they were frequent visitors at the diner. The way they interacted, it was obvious they were long-time friends. The careful way they moved, one using a walker, indicated they were struggling with health issues related to aging. I love it when stories come like that when we are open to them.
Thinking of you…three times we went through this adjustment and each time it was different. It empathizes the gift of love in your life and that is precious.
I knew I wasn’t the only one smelling my child’s abandoned shirts! Thank goodness for iPhones. Here’s a quote I overheard in a coffee shop that I use in my lifespan development course, “you can date someone half your age plus seven years”. (Apparently there are rules about this).