In Seclusion

I began to put my first book together in 2020. You know THAT year. The year when we all had more time on our hands for all the wrong reasons. The times, they were strange. There was a wariness, fear, sadness, and there was peace and joy. All combined with the worries about Covid, the forced quarantine, mask and vaccine mandates, the daily announcements of stores running out of toilet paper, hospitals running out of room, about the growing number of cases and the current death count; Yes, amongst all that, peace and joy was mixed in there too. Because we were given the order to pause.

The case numbers weren’t the only thing rising. Creativity was on the rise too. People were baking and sewing. Actors, singers, and dancers were figuring out how to perform and offer entertainment online. We began to meet via Zoom so we could see each other’s faces. Leslie Jordan became America’s sweetheart, a breath of fresh air; may he rest in peace. Folks were innovating.

(I’ll share this side story with you. Through a friend, I found out about the secret Indian food service. I got the number from said friend. I sent a test, saying who’d referred me, and got on the list. Every Monday I’d receive a menu I could select from and pick up on Thursday. You’d place your order. Get the address. Then, in a small neighborhood, you’d pull up at this house. There would be an envelope by the front door for cash and a cooler with your order inside waiting for you. If you were lucky, through the screen door, you could smell the smells from the kitchen. It would make you weep. It was amazing! The family has since moved, but it was nice while it lasted.)

Others began to write. I was one of the others. Only I didn’t realize that I had begun writing long before I put my book together. Back when my children were younger and I was homeschooling them in a tiny town in Mississippi—this was another form of isolation. I began to write a blog, clearing my head, communicating my thoughts. I’d been a dancer for years and since I didn’t have the opportunity to perform or choreograph at this time, I found another creative outlet. Closing the door, I’d sit, isolated in my bedroom, letting words flow through my fingers. October 2010. That’s when it really began.

You may have noticed I use the phrase ‘put my book together.’ So why am I not saying I wrote my book? Well, I started 2020 on a vacation in Colorado and I’d brought one good fiction book to read, Ronald Malfi’s Snow, and two other non-ficiton: the War of Art by Steven Pressfield and Writing the Damn Book by Stacy Nelson. I’ve already mentioned the former and now I’d like to talk about Writing the Damn Book.

The thought of facing a blank page or thinking you have nothing to say—well—that’s a fear everyone can relate to. But Stacy Nelson talks about content hoarding.

“If you’re driven to express yourself through writing then you’ve probably already written or spoken a ton of things in the world that you now have a chance to reclaim. Imagine everywhere you’ve ever written or spoken. All of it is content, sitting there, used once and forgotten.”

This! This is what changed my life. I had a book and I didn’t even know it. I printed out every blog I’d ever written. Stacy also talks about the importance of paper. Seeing your work, holding it in your hands. Now, I’ll tell you when I do print it out, I always print one sided, keeping what I don’t’ use in a recycle bin, using the back for lists and scratch paper (I no longer buy post its.) I read them all, began to look for connections, and groupings. The short version, I came up with a small book divided into sections of Mind, Body, and Spirit. I literally ‘put’ my book together like a puzzle. I’ve learned a lot about the writing journey since then. Trying this, failing at that. Learning. And I’m getting better at it every day.

Now, would I have gone down this road if not for the quarantine? Probably. But that strange year of 2020 afforded me the time and the space. Since we are not in the middle of a pandemic (knock on wood) and I’m not Paul Sheldon in Misery, experiencing forced isolation and quiet writing time with Annie Wilkes, I have to make my own schedule, practice self-discipline. Sometimes when you close the door to one world, a whole new one opens up.

Book recommendation

Writing the Damn Book by Stacy Nelson*

My guilty pleasure

One of my writing snacks: taking Chips Ahoy cookies, breaking them into fours, putting them in a bowl with milk and eating them like cereal. Don’t’ knock it ‘til you try it. You have to make your own snacks. Gosh, Paul Sheldon was so lucky! Annie Wilkes prepared all his food, bought him paper…

*This will not be the last time I reference Writing the Damn Book. Too much good stuff in there!

Batty forever,

Greta