Slowing Down the Pace
By Lisa Janice Cohen | October 31, 2024 |
This is not an essay about writing tools, though pace is one of the major aspects of writing craft that we do need to master. No, this is about slowing down my internal pace, the pace of my thoughts and attention in order to inhabit the frame of mind where writing is possible.
This is part of what I posted recently to my personal Facebook account:
“Hello lovely folks on Facebook. I’m, going to be taking a break from this platform for a little while.
I’m having a hard time focusing on my writing and part of that is the distraction of drifting to social media when the work gets difficult. Part is the unrelenting drumbeat of disaster and despair that gets amplified on social media.”
I went on to say that I would be probably continue to post photos of my farm, pottery, and dogs to Instagram, (adding beauty to the world is important) but that I would be away from FB for the rest of the summer.
It has taken me over a year of worry and struggling with ‘FOMO’ to decide to do this: Ever since fellow unboxers Lance Shaubert and Marianna Martin made their clean break from social media, I’ve been convinced that I should follow suit. And while I do exceedingly little self-promotion/marketing online, the thought of losing even the small audience who may see my writing-related posts kept me feeding the ravenous beast.
A writer who came to novels via poetry, I understand the need to inhabit a quiet, thoughtful space in my own head. There needs to be a certain silence where connections can bubble up from the subconscious, where intent mingles with the gloriously random to create a numinous moment.
This requires constructing a cathedral in the mind. A place with vaulted ceilings and stained glass windows for the light to play in. A sacred space where ideas are protected, nurtured, encouraged. Or a nursery. A kind of greenhouse where our stories are shielded from late spring frosts, violent winds, drenching rain. I live on a homestead farm. I know what it’s like to have your hard work torn from the soil by browsing deer or drowned in mud from unseasonable weather.
Our stories are like tender seedlings. They will need to be transplanted in a larger garden, but not until they are sturdy enough to survive outside.
Perhaps these metaphors are enough to convince you to also create a slower pace. If not, I will share an additional reason to walk away from social media. My very personal and pressing reason: I need to relearn how to sit with the discomfort when the work gets hard. And the work has been so very hard for such a long time.
I have fallen into a destructive pattern of reaching for my cell phone and telling myself I need a five minute break that invariably stretches to an hour or more of scrolling (mostly) Facebook. It might be one thing if all I saw were messages, photos, and posts from friends and family. But no matter what I choose to follow, the algorithm rolls out what it wants me to see. What it thinks I want to see. What I don’t ever want to see. And by the time I return to the writing (if I return to it), I have lost focus, momentum, and desire.
The truth is – and I’m just admitting it to myself here and now – it’s not the work alone that’s gotten difficult. I have lost my path to the expansive place my creativity needs to thrive. Along with that loss, comes the loss of confidence, of risk taking, and of joy.
And there is one more loss that feels critical to writing: I no longer have the tolerance for boredom.
When my children were young, they would often complain – especially during summer vacation – that they were bored. I remember telling them that boredom was good and that they should go play. Which they did, finding ways to create stories with their beanie babies as the characters. I recall they created a band where each little bean bag animal played an instrument. My children spent endless hot days in the summer “touring” different places in the house and yard while their band had adventures.
When manufactured distraction is literally far too close at hand, being bored is no longer a skill we cultivate. Instead, we demand to be entertained constantly. But very little of that entertainment comes from within: most of it is driven by advertising dollars (at best) and propaganda (at worst). I really don’t need to tell anyone about the negative influence of social media. I’ve known it for years, yet I kept scrolling. Not coincidentally, those were the same years I struggled with my current novel in progress.
It has not even been 24 hours since my decision to step away from social media, and I already feel more spacious. I have sat down to write this essay and not flicked over to another computer window to numb the frustration when the words don’t express what I want them too. I’m not filling the silence with endless chatter.
My thoughts are not chasing themselves around my brain like a dog chasing its own tail. In the margins, I’m seeing glimpses of the story that has eluded me. It is as shy as a stray kitten. Maybe even a little feral. I will try not to scare her. I will make a nest of soft blankets where she and I can settle.
Together, we will find the space to breathe. Nap. Yawn. Stretch. Write.
Have thoughts to share? How have you found balance in these turbulent times? How have you made space for creativity, for art, for connection with your core? We’d love to hear about this in comments. The floor is yours, WU Community.
LJ Cohen is a novelist, poet, fiber artist, potter, and relentless optimist. After almost twenty-five years as a physical therapist, LJ now uses real clinical skills to injure fictional characters. Find LJ at her writing website and blog or digging in the dirt at StarField Farm.
I agree 100 percent! I’ve thought that I need to ditch SM for the next week(s) and binge Schitt’s Creek, but what I really need to do is focus on writing because I signed up for a challenge for November (not NaNo) and I would really like to be able to clear my head. Right now, the only time my mind isn’t cluttered is when I’m working outside, and I love that about yard work (kudos for the gardening metaphor). Focus on the task, eliminate everything else.
I’ve been revisiting my first novel in preparation for some promotion and am blown away that I wrote that thing. I don’t seem to have that courage anymore. Some is worrying about what the market wants and what reviewers will say, or not say. I long to regain that first-novel innocence where I wrote for me alone.
I rely on the Freedom program to keep me off the internet when I’m writing, but I have to be disciplined enough to turn it on (and not quit it because I think I need to do some research).
Thank you for the reminder that avoiding the hard work won’t get the novel written! I hope you regain your balance. Now to get offline…
“I long to regain that first-novel innocence where I wrote for me alone.”
I feel this deeply, Elaine. Hoping to regain that feeling is pushing me away from the drive to publish, entirely. Yes, of course I hope my current manuscript is picked up, but if not, I am coming to the point of accepting that I will get what I’ve prayed for- to write again with abandon… Wishing you all the best with your work!
“A writer who came to novels via poetry, I understand the need to inhabit a quiet, thoughtful space in my own head. There needs to be a certain silence where connections can bubble up from the subconscious, where intent mingles with the gloriously random to create a numinous moment.”
I could weep at the truth of these words.
Wow! Thank you for writing this truth. I’m constantly amazed at how I click on to check email and ‘somehow’ end up on Facebook and Instagram, and then … an hour or 2 have passed. All wasted hours. It’s like an addiction and if I want to have an addiction, I want to be addicted to writing more books. :). Many thanks, Maria
Thanks for writing this, Lisa. I couldn’t agree with you more. It’s so uncanny you speak about the pace of thoughts–mine come at the pace of walking. Even riding my bike means I cannot be in that “cathedral” space. Loved that analogy.
I tried Facebook for a couple of years–it was the absolute worst time to start in 2016, lol–but I ditched it because it didn’t suit my sensibilities. Heck, I won’t even click on those like/check buttons on this forum. I prefer thoughtful essays and am captivated by beauty in all its forms. That’s why I write a blog and read a handful of lovely ones.
Right now the morning sunshine is streaming into my office and the cats have taken over my desk. I’ve already spent an hour writing long-hand (this also helps me to connect various ideas roiling in my head) but I’m ready to get my ghost story ship-shape. Thank you, too, for the reminder that we have to sit with the stories even when they’re a bit elusive, feral. Happy All Hallow’s Eve!
This may be the most valuable essay I’ve read on writerunboxed, among many many valuable essays!
Especially the emphasis on the relationship between boredom and creativity. Thank you thank you for the reminder!
Hello Lisa. Thanks for your post. I think what you say about the siren song of easy distraction is something we all know and must resist. But I want to focus on something else in your post.
“Our stories are like tender seedlings. They will need to be transplanted in a larger garden, but not until they are sturdy enough to survive outside.”
I don’t think of them in such vulnerable, delicate terms. The stories that matter, the few I actually act on begin with something like a hard jolt. I am walking in the city, looking at architecture, and someone too busy with her phone runs into me. Boom. An image, an idea or character has just collided with me, and I am now fully awake in a special way. This may sound too theatrical, but I believe it’s true for me. Thanks again for your post.
Beautifully said, Lisa. I managed to get rid of my social media addiction by replacing it with gaming on my mobile devices.
I know I need to purge them as well if I want to regain that contemplative space that feeds my work. Your post may be the kick I need.
Oh my, thank you. Somehow, you managed to climb inside my head, verbalize the frustration and anxiety of the last few years, and help me see the obvious solutions. The compounding effects of guilt and irritation from wasting time on social media can be relieved only by changing the direction of my day. Thanks again, DeNise
A lovely post, Lisa. Since 2020, I’ve ditched Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, bluesky. I remain on Instagram, but not as an author, just as a regular human, keeping in touch with friends. It’s helped enormously, although these past few months I’ve let following political news/Substacks steal back some of that attention.
I feel the energy of so many of us pushing back against the pressure to be present on social media to market our work or establish/maintain a platform. I love engaging with readers, but social media feels like such an echo chamber. I’m slowly resuming a regular substack newsletter in the same spirit as I blogged in the early-late 2010s. That feels good to me- it’s writing, it’s engaging- it takes reflection and planning.
Wishing you attention, peace, words. Julie
Beautifully said! I’ve always envied those writers who could whip off a few paragraphs while waiting for the light to change. Just kidding, but you know what I mean. I can write notes to myself on the fly, but, like you, I need that mental and emotional space if I’m truly going to inhabit my story. Thank you for the reminder and the validation.
What a wonderful post. Exactly what I needed. I, too, use social media when I feel I need a “break” from the writing. And I, too, get lost on it and an hour goes by. I was already of the mindset to move the phone away from the immediate vicinity to make it harder to use it as my crutch. But now? I need to just stop scrolling at all for a time. Maybe forever. Thank you.