A Room of One’s Own

Virginia Woolf said that a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction. She said this in lectures at Cambridge University in the 1920s, talking not only about writing, but about feminism, and the ongoing struggle for women in the arts to be acknowledged, respected and allowed to succeed.

All important, all good. But it was always the “room of one’s own” part that resonated with me. Because I never really had one.

Okay, I’ve had rooms of my own a few times since growing up and leaving home. Usually the spare bedroom with a table or desk. Almost always a shared space. For years, when my children were young and growing and I was a college professor, the kitchen table was mine, all mine. Centre of the house. The hub, where Mom could be found prepping lessons and marking assignments in between making meals, folding laundry, arguing with the teenager about sketchy weekend plans, or offering advice on schoolyard politics. More recently, I spent almost 10 years at the dining room table, a.k.a. the home media bench, while working in sports communications. Me and the china and silverware.

And I still managed to write a couple of books that got published. But, but… 

A room of my own. A studio. An office. It was always a dream. And now, with kids moved out and a quieter pace of life, I have finally claimed a space just for me. For my writing, my books, my music, my rug hooking, my yarn stash. My stuff. My creativity. My solitude. 

Of course, you’ll still find me at the kitchen table with my computer, or in the living room by the fire with my yarn and needles, or in the family room watching the Leafs (one day soon, I hope) and playing my dulcimer. 

But to have my room of one’s own to retreat to…?  Yes, Virginia. There are things worth waiting for.

Here's a little tour...

 

A tiny glimpse of my embarrassingly large yarn stash. Please don't judge me.

Yes, I am a hooker.

The instrument is a mountain dulcimer, purchased over 30 years at the Halifax Folklore Centre, and well travelled. The books are part of a collection of traditional folksong that I've been amassing since I was 12 years old and my Grade 6 teacher gave me the school's copy of Edith Fowke's Folksongs of Canada. He knew I was onto something. (Thank you, Mr. Logan!)

Norton Anthology, Beowulf and Snorra Edda (that's Old Icelandic for, very roughly, Snorri's Stories - Snorra Sturluson's 13th century collection of stories and verse.) Also my mother's collection of Rosamunde Pilcher. Favourite re-reads, such as A Town Like Alice, Pride and Prejudice and Vera Brittain's A Testament of Youth. Current fiction and non-fiction from people I know (Terry Fallis, Brad Smith, Sara Jewell). And tons of music.

A workspace must include tea.

“Neither Far Out Nor In Deep” – Robert Frost nails it

 

 

During these pandemic days of summer, I'm living a safely isolated life on a shore, near water.

Safe. Isolated. Away from my safely isolated kids, my newborn grandson, my close family and friends. Being careful and responsible. Sigh.

 

Living an isolated life means you have a lot of time to think about things, especially during a period packed with so much fear, so many unknowns. When listening to or reading the news is like submitting to a daily bludgeoning. When it feels like there’s no end in sight.

 

Yes, it makes you think. Sometimes too much.

 

Right now, the best place for me to think is near water. What is it about staring out at unknown depths that helps me find comfort? Maybe it’s the feeling of permanence along with change – waves, tides, horizon, sky. Day in, day out, but every time I look, the scene transforms.

 

“The people along the sand,” wrote Robert Frost, “All turn and look one way. They turn their back on the land. They look at the sea all day.”

 

That’s me. Staring out at the sea and wondering when this fraught pandemic time will ease back into something approaching normal – or, as I like to call it, The Beforetime.

 

“They cannot look out far. They cannot look in deep,” Frost wrote. “But when was that ever a bar to any watch they keep?”

 

Lots of questions, and few answers, but people just turn away from “the land” – a stark, unchanging reality – and keep looking, hoping, believing that the answers are out there.

 

Or in the context of pandemic times, that we’ll learn to live safely with the virus, find a vaccine, kick its butt, get on with “normal” life and leave this “land” behind us.

 

Until then, like Frost’s “people along the sand”, I’ll turn my back on the land, do my part, and keep watch for something better.

Open that door!

Open door on Writing Life - Today! Now!

So here’s the thing about my writing life. It’s uneven.

Yes, all the experts say writing takes commitment. That you just have to show up. That you need to apply yourself to it every day. That you shouldn’t wait for a muse to get it going. That it’s work. That it’s not just something you do in your spare time.

Yup. All true.

But my writing life is uneven. It’s rough. It’s something that ebbs and flows, and I ebb and flow with it. My creativity sometimes goes away.

Can that really happen? Yes, it can. It has happened to me more often than I would like to admit. It’s as if all the air in a balloon seeps out, and I’m left holding this weary, deflated piece of plastic on a string. Nothing there.

Why does this happen? Life. The many distractions and obligations of Life, and the people I share it with. I guess you could say that I compartmentalize. I sometimes feel the need to put my writing life in a room, where it will be safe, resting, and patient.

And I close the door. I’m actually quite good at it.

So Life goes on, but my Writing Life goes into a deep sleep, behind the door.

To be fair to myself, it’s not like I’m not writing – I’m writing a lot. In fact, that’s my job. I write stories about curling clubs, and curling people. I write news reports from the media bench at national and international events, and I produce media releases and marketing materials and corporate documents for my employer. Lots of variety. Lots of writing.

And while the deadlines loom and the obligations of my job pile up, my creative writinglLife goes to sleep behind that door. I miss it, oh yes I do. But I don’t have the time or energy to open the door and let it out.

Besides, it’s a bit like having secret treat stashed away, just waiting for the perfect moment to indulge myself.

But now it’s April, and there have been stirrings behind the door, recently. Little bumps in the night: whispers, characters, scenes. Quite exciting, actually! It’s like looking forward to going on a trip and enjoying the anticipation of dreaming up the itinerary. The places I’ll go! The people I’ll meet!

Now, today, I have my hand on the doorknob and the hinges are creaking. Yup. The door on my writing life is swinging open...

My Writer-In-Residence Experience: A few thoughts

Flowers from my young writers. Nice!

A week ago, eleven young writers from Hillfield Strathallan College in Hamilton, Ontario, walked up to the microphone, one by one, and shared their stories and poems with the assembled audience of parents, friends, teachers and me, their proud Writer In Residence.

Our evening of readings went off without a hitch, a perfect end to an 8-month program which began with my first visit back on October. Since then, we've met three times as a group and shared many email conversations as I guided, motivated and offered feedback throughout the writing process.

A few thoughts:

1. Creative kids love to write

Don't worry about motivating them. Don't fuss over perfection. Don't wrack your brains trying to think up cool writing exercises to get them enthused. Young writers are already enthused. I brought a couple of prompts to each of our sessions, but I hardly needed them. Here's the paper, here's the pencil - write! And they did.

2. Fan Fiction is a learning tool

Yes, there were a lot of stories about girls, horses, and friendship troubles. Also boys with magical god-like powers. Also mysteries and spy thrillers. Walk down the Juvenile Series of any bookstore and you will see the source that fuels this kind of writing. (Thankfully, not a vampire in sight!) I believe that reading leads to copycat writing. And copycat writing - or fan fiction - is how young writers try out their voices. They copy a style or voice, they merge with other styles and voices, and finally, they emerge, with their own style and their own voice. The bottom line? They're reading and they're writing - and they're having fun doing it. Who could ask for more?

3. Writers hate deadlines

Oh yes we do. But they are a necessary and unavoidable part of the writing life. My young writers needed much reminding in order to meet their deadlines for submission. What they didn't seem to understand is that as a writer, you can't wait for inspiration to strike. In fact, as deadlines loom, inspiration shrivels. If I have an opportunity to be involved in a program like this again, I will address the need to respect and understand deadlines - and I'll offer some strategies for meeting them. If they continue in the writing life, they'll thank me one day. And during their school careers, their teachers might thank me too!

4. Teachers are amazing

Sharon N., the teacher who ran the program I was involved in, deserves a degree in Project Management. When I arrived, the room was set up like something from a posh hotel. Tables with tablecloths and floral centrepieces, complete with candles. A podium, lamp and sound system. Printed programs on every table. Coffee burbling in the hot urn, water in the cold one. Treats ordered for the intermission. And there she sat, marking furiously before the evening began. Not only that, but she had been coaching girls' basketball games earlier in the week, and preparing for the school-wide fair happening later in the week. Her own kids needed ferrying to rep soccer, and, to top it off, she was sick with a cold. She encouraged the nervous students, spoke to all the parents, dealt with last-minute glitches and treated me like gold. Teachers are amazing, and I hope parents and kids realize how lucky they are to have someone like Sharon - and there are lots of Sharons out there - teaching their kids. Thanks, Sharon!

5. Writing starts as a passion - and sometimes we forget that

As I made my remarks and introductions at the front of the room, I couldn't help looking at those kids and seeing myself, a long time ago, at the start of my writing life. Notebooks full of ideas, poems, unfinished stories. Dreamy images in my head. Books piled beside my bed. Did I dream of being published and making lots of money? No, I dreamed of writing. I dreamed of my characters and what I could do with them. It was all so pure. And that's exactly what I saw in my young writers too. It was a great reminder to see my own passion for writing - a passion that extends back into the mists of my childhood - mirrored on the faces and in the words of these kids. A wonderful moment.

The experience of being a Writer in Residence was a gift.

Thanks, kids!