February 8, 2012

I recently bought The Literary Ladies: Guide to the Writing Life by Nava Atlas. Its subtitle says it is “inspiration and advice from celebrated women authors who paved the way.”

 

One of my favorite quotes is from the author of Little Women, Louisa May Alcott. She said: 

 

“My methods of work are very simple and soon told. My head is my study, & there I keep the various plans of stories for years sometimes, letting them grow as they will till I am ready to put them on paper. … While a story is under way I lie in it, see the people, more plainly than the real ones, round me, hear them talk, & am much interested, surprised, or provoked at their actions.” –from a letter to a journalist in 1887

 

Your Portable Study

During the writing of my first ten or eleven novels, I always had from one to four babies, toddlers, and preschoolers underfoot. I desperately loved writing fiction, and I longed for the day when I could sit down at the typewriter, take a deep breath, close my eyes in solitude, and think about what I wanted to say.

 

However, with small children, you have to think on the run. My way of creating—like most young moms—was to do a lot of pre-thinking. I worked out plot twists and problems while washing dishes. I thought of titles and character names while folding diapers. I rolled bits of dialogue around in my mind while pushing someone on the swing set or nursing or walking a teething baby. When no immediate demand required my attention, I lived in my head with my characters. As Louisa May Alcott so aptly put it, my head was my study.

 

I promised myself that this was a temporary way of writing, one I was eager to abandon as soon as I had more time. In actuality, it turned out to be an excellent way to write.

 

Lost “Head Space”

 

Babies and toddlers grow up and go to school. Mine did too, and I finally had that time to sit and think at the keyboard (a computer by that time). I quickly decided that I must have undiagnosed ADHD or something. I couldn’t sit still and think.

 

For the first time in my eight years of writing, I experienced the dreaded writer’s block I had read about in my writing magazines. So this is what they were talking about! It was truly awful, and no matter what suggestions I tried, nothing seemed to work. Often I would give up and go do some chores that waited or start editing assignments (I was teaching by then).

 

I was aggravated with myself that I wasn’t writing more and enjoying it more. For years, I had dreamed of the day I’d have peace and quiet to write. Now that it was here, I was stuck more often than not. But with student assignments to mark, there was no time to waste just sitting and staring at a blank screen. I needed to be productive with all the time I had while the kids were at school.

 

I didn’t realize at the time that I had lost the ability to have “head space,” as my writing friend calls it. “Head space” is that inner solitude where you go and ruminate on a story. It’s where you live in your head with your created story creatures, be they human or fantasy characters. It’s not a rushed place—you don’t hurry in, think a minute, then rush out. You live there for a while.

 

Lost in the Desert

 

I didn’t just lose “my head is my study” ability for a short time. I lost it for years—close to twenty years, by my estimation. Oh, I still wrote and published a lot during that time…but the novels were no longer the kind that reached down deep inside me and pulled out the “good stuff.” (We all know what that feels like when we strike writing gold.)

 

I also wrote a lot of nonfiction during that time—all books I’m proud of—but nonfiction (for me, at least) doesn’t require head space. It’s more like writing term papers: just sit down and do it.

 

Unexpected Recovery

 

However, last week I made the happy discovery that sometime in the last couple months, I have regained that ability to dwell in my own head space. This will sound silly, probably, but I was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning the first time it happened. I remembered that lovely feeling! And it came out of the blue.

 

When it happened a second time, and then a third time, I started paying attention to what was causing (or allowing) it. Each time I was pushing my one-year-old granddaughter in a stroller or in her swing in the back yard. The walks in the afternoon are up to an hour, and the swing time can last twenty minutes or more.

 

I realized that ideas were popping in my head. The voice of a character I had been struggling to “hear” suddenly started talking to me. She was real, and I knew her. The first time it happened, I held my breath, afraid she would disappear as suddenly as she’d surfaced. After it kept happening, I relaxed and blessed the unexpected side benefits of unrushed routine tasks.

 

Brooding Up

 

L.M. Montgomery, author of the Anne of Green Gables books and Emily of New Moon, called this “dwelling in head space” process “brooding up.” It’s a way to juggle duty with a writing schedule, a way to think out plots and characters while attending to your job and motherhood. And Agatha Christie is famous for saying that her best time to plan a book was while doing the dishes.

 

“For anyone who doesn’t have the luxury of long hours to spend at the writing desk,” says Atlas in The Literary Ladies, “it’s comforting to know that your head can serve as your study…and that you can carry this portable work space wherever you go.”

 

Yes, it’s a great comfort to me. Is it to you?

12 Comments »

1. 

   Thanks for all the great comments and feedback below. It seems that we are all kindred souls, both with each other and those famous ladies of the past. Your sharing gave me some good ideas to try too! I guess we can “learn” to have head space in times and places we don’t even think are possible!

   Comment by Kristi Holl — February 8, 2012 @ 10:46 am

2. 

   What a wonderful analysis of the “study” in the head. My journey mirrors yours too, since I started writing with babies, and yes, what a difference it makes when we can just be with our thoughts. Teaching, wfh, etc. often take up that headspace … Here’s to a full life, quiet times, walking, lulling babies to sleep, and letting our imaginations fly.

   Comment by Vijaya — February 8, 2012 @ 11:29 am

3. 

   This is great! I think I long so much for solitary time, as I am mom of 2 young kids and I also work full time. But this post made me realize that starvation of time can be a good thing. At least when I sit down to write, I am so bursting with material, that I suffer little from writer’s block. I want to buy this book. I so look forward to your posts. Thanks for all of the encouragement.

   Comment by Marcie Atkins — February 8, 2012 @ 12:53 pm

4. 

   Hello,

   I know that feeling well. I live in my head sometimes just to “Get away form the world”. Now that I am 5 months into expecting my second son I treasure that time all the more. It’s funny how these things work, I find it happens to me mostly when I’m washing some pots or sorting/folding laundry or sometimes just as I’m trying to settle down to sleep while my new little one is “rolling around”.
   Cheers

   Comment by AllyM — February 8, 2012 @ 2:29 pm

5. 

   I have found that there are definitely “prompt jogs” – activities or spaces, certain events, architecture or settings – for lack of a better term, that will kick in out of the blue, when my head seems to be a football overfilled with fixaflat, and then placed in a vacuum. I also keep a list – they have rarely failed to unlock the door to my study. Sometimes they just teleport me THROUGH the door! It is worth it in spades, to go back and spot those old little successful actions, that one might have said – “Oh, I am too grown up for it now – or I am in a different space/circumstances.” Whatever works, those neural pathways, with the action related to them, (or whatever you want to call them), you set up then are still there! Maybe a bit rusty or over grown, but there IS a pathway that got honed, just waiting to be trod again!

   Comment by jen — February 8, 2012 @ 4:22 pm

6. 

   What a great post, Krist! Thanks for sharing and I’m glad you have your “head space” back!

   Comment by Jennifer Rumberger — February 8, 2012 @ 7:27 pm

7. 

   Lovely – I’ve always disappeared into my head during routine work and sometimes felt guilty for not paying attention to the task at hand. It is true for me that wonderful ideas come out of those moments. Thanks for sharing this!

   Comment by Jeri — February 9, 2012 @ 9:44 am

8. 

   Hi Kristi:
   I’ve never called it head space, but what you speak about is exactly what I do. Unfortunately, I can’t really control it. It can invade other parts of my life. Sometimes I find myself not really listening to a conversation because I’m immersed in my own plot. I have a 45 minute drive to and from work each day and I use that time to listen to audio books, but sometimes I realize I’ve been lost in head space—working in my head on one of my own stories, then I have no idea what’s going on in the book. This has happened enough that I know I should turn off the recording and let my mind go. A couple of weeks ago I turned off the stereo and worked in head space until I got to work, and quickly jotted down what I had thought about. For the rest of the day the characters and events were alive in my head, but it would be three more days until I could get time to write it. I should have taken more notes, because the head space I was in was missing three days later. I still wrote the piece based on my original notes, but I should have taken the time to record the day’s head space while it was fresh. Lesson learned.
   Doug

   Comment by Doug Shearer — February 9, 2012 @ 11:48 am

9. 

   Love this post, Kristi. I find that I make very little headway without a time each day for “dreaming” about what I’m writing. The best time for me is early in the morning when I’m getting ready for the day. My mind wanders through plots and I find myself listening to my characters’ conversations with each other. When its quiet I can hear their stories more clearly in my head.

   Sounds a little strange, but its what works for me. : )

   Comment by Beth MacKinney — February 12, 2012 @ 3:37 pm

10. 

    Today’s lifestyles are not set up for times of quiet meditation, and I believe these are important to a writer.

    Comment by Beth MacKinney — February 12, 2012 @ 3:39 pm

11. 

    Kristi, glad you have been able to find your head space again. My best stuff is written in my head and then I can’t wait to get it to paper and want to get it all written at once. I think for me the best thoughts come when I’m trying to fall asleep or in the shower. The bad thing is I often can’t remember exactly how I worded something and when I go to write it on paper, it just doesn’t have the “ring” I thought it had when it was in my head. I’ve gotten better about writing it down and keeping a notebook by my bed. Usually, if I write it down (or at least some notes) I remember it better and then can actually fall asleep instead of writing all night in my head. Time is precious. I try to take at least one afternoon of the 3 days I get to spend home with her during her nap to write. Thanks for your posts.

    Comment by Jennifer Rathe — February 13, 2012 @ 8:23 pm

12. 

    So glad you have found your headspace! I am finding mine in cafes, strangely enough, where the noise and chatter just fades away and I’m in my mental study, writing in my notebook. I’m like you – so happy to have found it, and planning to use it as much as I can.

    Comment by Sherryl — February 14, 2012 @ 9:36 pm

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