Portland has been slowed down—not quite to a stop, though close—under a blanket of snow and patches of ice. The snow is nowhere near the record-setting drifts I navigated back when I was sixteen, when I learned to drive in Michigan. Still, here, in Portland, it’s enough to shut down the city.
Most of all, it’s just so cold out. The temperature plummeted, and the wind is fierce.
There’s nothing like a day of unexpected closures to make space for writing—and in that space, I started setting goals.
I assessed my unfinished inventory: Essays, short stories, an older novel, a new novel-in-process…I started working on the new novel-in-process. I actually psyched myself into imagining I might crank it out like Stephen Graham Jones, who once wrote a novel in something like 48 hours, proving it can be done! (As a slow writer, he’s my hero—that story is epic!)
After a short stint of words on the page, I tried to make coffee. There was no water. The pipes had frozen. It’s that cold.
I went down into the basement, hoping to find the frozen stretch in the pipe, to thaw it. What I saw instead, in the basement, was a mess. I saw stacks of things that could go in the trash, and others that might serve as donations. I saw the debris of raising a child, parenting, marriage. History.
Instead of putting words on the page, I shifted gears to put old things into bags, clearing space. It’s all good and maybe even necessary work, though not the work I set out to do.
Back upstairs, I picked up where I’d left off in a book by Haruki Murakami, Novelist as a Vocation.
Isn’t that a validating title? Novelist as Vocation…The word “vocation” is perfect.
I was kicking myself for taking such a long break, though I’d been thinking about my novel the whole time, as I sorted things. And what I read first was this:
There’s another aspect of time one must take into account when writing a novel. That is the “gestation period,” something especially important when writing a long work, what is growing within you. Through this internal process you build up the zeal to tackle the novel. Only the author knows for sure if enough time has been invested in each step of the process: completing the initial preparatory work, giving the ideas concrete shape, letting them fully “settle” in a cool, dark place, exposing them to the natural light when they are ready, carefully inspecting them, and then tinkering. The quality of the time spent doing these things will manifest itself in the persuasiveness of the completed work. It is an invisible process, but the difference it makes is huge.
Thank you, Murakami, for this recognition of the “gestation period,” and the reminder. I’m grateful to have read it.
I hope you all are well! Writing, if you’re interested in writing, reading, being alive, being human.
With love and best wishes,
M
Ps—If you’d like to take a writing workshop with me, now is the time! Right here: Book Online | Monica Drake
I’m working to get the word out…three classes. Two are workshops with a focus in particular on the personal essay. The third is a reading and discussion group.
And huge shout-out of thanks to paid subscribers. You make all the difference!
I have 4 novels gestating in my brain. I experiment and write short stories about them to test things that I want to do. I will complete the draft of one this year. I'm excited by the process. I am also excited to hear more about your in process work.
I ❤️❤️❤️ that you are going forward with the essay discussion as an offering! I missed it this Sunday--so happy I got to beta test it with you 🌺