“For what we write today slipped into our souls some other day when we were alone and doing nothing.”
— Brenda Ueland, from If You Want to Write
Oh, how I love a good quote. The best ones come out and grab me round the heart when I’m least expecting it, like this one did earlier today while I was continuing my read-through of Ueland’s writing book.
It’s so true, and so important to the writing process. Most writing doesn’t happen the instant we are experiencing what we eventually will write about. Most writing happens well after the fact, after the tortoise part of our brain has had time to catch up with the hare part — the part that’s zipping through life from one thing to the next. It’s the tortoise, not the hare, that does the hardest work, the methodical work, while the rest of us is doing something else, like washing dishes, driving the kids to school, buying groceries, having lunch with a friend.
It’s actually pretty amazing, if you think about it. What other job is mostly accomplished while you’re not actually doing anything at all, or, at the very least, not the thing you have set out to do in order to accomplish something specific? Of course, all other creative acts work in much the same way.
Writing, when it’s finished, may appear refined, but that’s not the way it comes at us initially. More often than not, it arrives in fragments. Our job as writers is to snatch up those bits and create order from them; to take those pieces of disjointedness and bring them together into something whole, something edifying, and on the best days, something lovely.
In the same chapter where I found this nugget, Ueland gives us permission to doodle, to while away some of our hours, to take walks and not have an agenda. This is hard for us, in our output-oriented society, but it’s imperative for the writer who wants to create something meaningful, and not just something that is a simple regurgitation.
There’s a beautiful energy that is utilized within the act of writing. It’s an energy that is constantly changing, requiring both output and input. Sometimes it can be draining, but often, it’s exhilarating, especially when a piece is finished and you realized you’ve helped bring order to a mess.
So twirl your hair, get a cup of something warm, throw a load of clothes into the washer, look out the window, rearrange your files. When you’re “diverted” in this way, when you think you’re wasting time, it’s likely the very thing your tortoise needs in order to roll around a bit in his shell, settle on some conclusions, and prepare to slowly spring his revelations onto you.
Go ahead and let the tortoise have his way, and don’t feel an ounce of guilt about it. It’s all part of this awesome process called writing.
Q4U: What are the ways you allow your ideas to germinate?
Beautiful post, Roxane.I find it incredibly hard to slow down. But over the past couple of weeks as I’ve left one book behind and started the trail to the new one, I’ve found myself meandering, taking time to refresh my inner spirit, gazing out the window at the way the snowflakes fall, reading classic devotions, and letting my tortoise have her way. So I can totally relate to your post! 🙂
Perfect timing here, as I’ve been staring out the window watching the snow fall!
Like Jody, this doesn’t come naturally to me either, so thanks for the reminder.
This was my favorite line — a really wise observation that I sometimes forget:
“There’s a beautiful energy that is utilized within the act of writing. It’s an energy that is constantly changing, requiring both output and input.”
Thanks, Roxane! 🙂
Yes! I couldn’t agree more. Most of the time when I’m “working on” something, it just means I’m letting my tortoise catch up to my hare. I think all creative-types daydream. And that’s a good thing.
Thanks for sharing!
It totally comes naturally to me to sit and daydream. I’ve gotten scolded for it, ridiculed about it, made to feel dumb. Thanks, Roxane, for giving me the tools to turn that back around and say, “Wait a minute. I’m doing important work here, so leave me alone. My daydreams are my crockpot of ideas. They take time to cook and for all the flavors to blend. You can’t even imagine how wonderful this dish will be when it’s finally ready to share.”
Lovely post, Roxane! Coloring is how I slow down and think about my ideas and characters and plot points. I just got out my two Christmas coloring books, so I can’t wait to dive in as I think about my post-NaNo revisions and a new novel idea. 🙂
I’ve just loved these comments! Coloring, watching snow flakes, agreeing that these activities are all NECESSARY for our work as writers. Jody, I’m so glad you’re able to find that reflective time now — it’s so necessary! Good for you for recognizing and claiming it! Mary, yours really made me smile. The whole Crockpot analogy is priceless! I have a real Crockpot meal on my mind today. It calls to mind the need to think ahead a bit to prepare, to do a little chopping and peeling beforehand, and then to let things simmer, and indeed, what results is truly every bit worth the wait!
Roxane,
I so agree with the others–great post! I couldn’t help but giggle when I was reading it–guess all my “couch” time spent healing could be good crockpot time for future writing! Thanks for making me smile today!
Roxane, I’ve had to cut several of my activities in order to focus on my daughter and my writing alone. The advantage of this paring down is that I am more spiritually open to the joy of the Christmas season than I have been in years! I usually direct a children’s program for our church. I love it, and I love seeing their faces and knowing they will always remember it, but it’s a lot of work and makes November and early December pretty hectic. It’s nice to have a year off and be able to tortoise my way through the season.
Kim, I’m so glad my post made you giggle. Your comment was a reminder to me that NO time is wasted, not even time spend trying to heal. 🙂
And Rosslyn, I’m so glad you’re giving yourself a break. This was good to me to hear, since I’ve been summoned to possibly direct a children’s choir next year. There’s a part of me saying, “Don’t do it,” and I think it would be wise for me to listen carefully. I have a feeling it would end up being more work than I can offer right now. So thanks for that little bit of insight to help me discern.
Wonderful contrast to my crazy month of writing with NaNoWriMo. Whew! It’s nice to slow down. 🙂
Exactly what I needed, Roxane! I’ve been letting my ideas marinate for a while now…and am just beginning to reshape them on the page! I, like Mary, am a born daydreamer! In fact, no one in my family would ever let me do dishes (I was the dryer.), because my mind would get lost in the bubbles! Winter is the perfect time to lay back and let it all happen. When I look out my window these days, I don’t see much, but I know those old trees are cooking up something green and lush for spring!