A Story Starts with Solitude

The more powerful and original a mind, the more it will incline towards the religion of solitude.
- Aldous Huxley

This post is about how you set yourself up physically, emotionally and psychically to write short stories.

Unfortunately, we are a social species, and while that provides endless material for a writer, it’s not always conducive for hearing, creating and thinking about your stories.

They did not teach us solitude in school, or if they did, I don’t remember it. Going to the library is about the closest thing or maybe when I was older and had an independent study.

But now as a working adult with co-workers, a family, perhaps a spouse or children, and a social network of friends, you will have to un-hook for brief periods of time to write. Maybe you are a caregiver for a family member, and so you will have to negotiate a two-hour break from those duties.

I recommend two-hour blocks, at least three times a week, so maybe that is 6 a.m. to 8 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays, plus a more leisurely 9 a.m. to 11 a.m. session on Saturday. This may involve some trade-offs. Maybe you pack school lunches the night before and move your gym workout around to early evening. Maybe you can only swing a 90-minute writing session.

What you most have to be careful of is your ending time. It may be tempting once you get in the flow, to keep writing. But know that it’s perfectly permissible, or even desirable to stick to a hard-stop for wrapping up. Our human brains have an amazing capacity to pick right back up where we left off (a day or two days earlier, not a week).

Ernest Hemingway famously broke mid-story, mid-sentence at lunch time, in order to attend a bullfight or fish for marlin in the afternoon. He knew that his subconscious was most likely working on a story, even as he played or enjoyed a sunny afternoon in a Paris café.

Solitude is essential so you can read another author, and listen intently to what you are saying on the page. You don’t always need a quiet, tucked away, foam-padded room for this. If I’m deep into my material, I can write just fine in a crowded café or fast food restaurant, or a busy airport departure lounge.

I have a tremendous advantage as a writer, in terms of production. I’m a divorced, empty nester who works half-time on freelance writing projects. I was able to pull this off because I drastically slashed my living expenses, so there was less pressure on me for full-time income.

This may not be your story, but it illustrates the point of clearing out minor social commitments and other demands so you have several clear blocks of time each week. I happen to have five four-hour blocks and both weekend days free because I have made some decisions about the importance of my writing.

At a minimum, find six hours each week, if possible.

Arrange a place you can go to consistently: quiet study, a kitchen table or nook, a bedroom corner or a coffee shop, where you can concentrate on reading and writing.

It’s like a painter or sculptor that devotes several times each week to their studio time, and several hours to visiting a museum, a gallery, or other source of visual inspiration.

You may find yourself unsettled by what feels like so much alone time. It’s similar to the discomfort that some people experience with meditation and mindfulness exercises.

Once you get used to solitude, it may become addicting. You will also find that in solo mode you are a tremendous, entertaining and hilarious companion, just you and your brain. Tiny things will amuse you, individual words and descriptive sentences.

Now add to this “grouping of one,” the companionship of other authors and their characters, and the characters you will create, who take on a life of their own. Sometimes, it will feel like a cocktail party is in progress, but you look around the room, and it’s just you, the chair, the desk and the reading lamp.

You have arrived.

Note: this blog is an excerpt from my forthcoming guide for first time fiction writers, due out in November 2018

Photo by Author: Thames River, Dusk, Sept 2011