Hi friends,
Before I get into the newsletter, I’d like to share a silly confession and some fun news: Shortly after I began writing, Poets & Writers sent me an ad for a discount subscription for writers. I thought the fact that they knew who I was meant I’d reached writer status! Of course they’d just gotten my name via a lit mag submission, but it was so affirming. Then last week, with the release of the Endpapers paperback, I had an interview on P&W’s website! If you’re interested, you can read it here!
Between the holidays (my family celebrates Chanukah and Christmas), paperback promotion, and unplanned dental visits, the last few weeks have been full, to say the least. But what I want to focus on here is Monday morning, when I woke up to my alarm at 5:35 a.m. and a minute later the power went out. I waited a few seconds, expecting it to buzz back to life, as it usually does, but there was nothing. I got out of bed and felt my way down the stairs until I found my phone and used its light to creep down to the basement to retrieve our electric lanterns.
When our power goes out, we can’t use the water because it requires electricity to pump it from the well and we can’t use our landline because it’s powered by the internet. My cell phone wouldn’t get service, so I had no way to check on the status of the outage. A look out the window told me only that the whole street had gone dark. The cats were as confused as I was.
I sat on the couch. No light. No coffee. No computer. No #5amWritersClub.
As a writer, the pressure I feel to produce (and by extension publish) often gets to me a little too much. For a while I was agitated. I’d awakened at 5:30 to write, not to sit around doing nothing. I could’ve been in bed sleeping. But after a few moments, I thought about how I never get up just to watch the sunrise or to enjoy the quiet—and maybe it was enough just to do that.
Soon it was 6:00 and my son’s cellphone alarm went off. I met him in his room. I helped him set up to brush his teeth with bottled water, then we sat on the couch together, letting the day dawn around us without any of our usual distractions. I had no way to write or get ready for work; he had no way to get ready for school.
As we sat together, mostly not talking, I thought about how every morning my head is buried in my notebook or I’m staring at my computer while the people I love are busy getting ready for their day. I work at home, so I get ready after they leave. And then I’m either on my computer for work or scrolling social media. I take a few walks and occasionally meet someone for lunch. But no matter how much time I spend alone, I hardly ever sit quietly with my own thoughts, without distraction. Or with my family, with no agenda.
My point is, it was unsettling. But in being unsettling, it was also wonderful. I appreciated the forced opportunity to just be for an hour—along with my son. Stripped of all our usual ways of plugging in.
I’m up at that time almost every morning during the week, but I never see how quietly busy the world outside is before the sun comes up. As I looked out the window, I saw a bunny dressed in shadow hopping up our walkway. It walked around to the side of the house and had a staring contest with my cat through the glass door. Squirrels chased one another up and down trees. Chipmunks and birds scurried. Without electricity their lives went on uninterrupted.
I finally got enough cell reception to learn that NYSEG was on top of things and power would be restored by mid-morning. And I found myself almost wishing it wouldn’t. My son is growing up faster and faster. I could use more time to slow down with him and watch the chipmunks. I could use more time to shed the pressure to write and publish. More time to turn everything off and see what emerges from the quiet.
But the power did come back on. My son went to school. My husband went to work. And I fired up my computer for my day job. But that feeling stayed with me for the rest of the day.
This is what I wish for you during the wonderful or not-so-wonderful chaos of the holiday season and as the New Year approaches. I hope you find a few moments to sit in the dark, to look out the window, to turn off your phone, take a break from writing, sit quietly with a family member or friend, with no agenda. And notice how it makes you feel.
Meanwhile, I look forward to next time.
Yours,
Jen
I'm reading this after getting up and out from an hour of "naptime" in my son's room. Air quotes because he didn't nap but I'm trying. Anyway, I found myself lying on the floor beside the crib thinking, "I never get to just lie on the floor." That was my noveling time for the day...but it felt really good. A writer fear I have is that if I give myself too much down time, that's all I'll want and I'll never go back to writing. It's so hard to find a balance of rest and exertion, of quiet and hard work. Thank you for sharing this morning of positive non-exertion in your week.
It’s amazing how freeing that something like a power outage can be. I do find it hard to surrender to it, but we need those times. Like taking a silent trail walk, alone, with no podcast or audiobook--hard at first, but good for our heads and the writing.