On my office door is this little sign, Discipline, Priorities, Boundaries. It comes from the teachings of the Stoic philosophers. I printed it out during a particularly bad week in the middle days of quarantine, when the abject terror for all my beloved family and friends had subsided and the boredom of not doing anything, ever, had set in. I was having trouble getting my writing done, despite a looming deadline, and would spend entire days in a fugue state, unable to recount a single thing I had done besides eat Starburst.
Starburst were my Corona habit. That waxy paper, the chewy sweetness, the burst of nerve-soothing sugar got me through a lot of anxiety. I know lots of you found some other bad habit to ease yourself through the uncertainty.
But of course, a person can’t indulge a really bad habit for very long without consequences. After a few weeks, that excess sugar started to make me feel like crap, and I knew it was just a mindless pacifier helping me to deal with overwhelming, brand-new uncertainties. Would my mother get sick? Would I? What about that grandmother dying alone in the hospital with no one to talk to her. (Of all the things, this one bothers me the most by far, and it is practically inhuman.)
We all have been through some version of this, and you know, it’s not appreciably improving. There is just no way to predict anything. We are stuck, living day to day, in this reality.
Seems like a perfect time for a writer to escape into the work. Can’t go anywhere. Can’t visit anyone. Have already binged everything on Netflix. Maybe escaping into the world of my book, a world I control (more or less), a world I invented, would feel great.
Except, like many of you, I’m sure, I just couldn’t get into it. I wrote, because that’s what I do, but it was never for long, never very much.
Which is where the stoics come in. Last year, I went to the West Country in England for research on what became The Lost Girls of Devon. In Glastonbury, my partner picked up a book of daily readings from the Stoics, a group of Roman philosophers I didn’t really know much about. We established a daily habit of reading them over breakfast every day on our travels, and kept it up when we got home.
If you know me, you probably think this is a strange fit. I tend more to the excessive (see Starburst, above) and intense than measured and thoughtful.
The idea of stoicism seems austere and rather dry, but in fact the Stoics were quite interested in living a good, full life, but they wanted to live mindfully, with good character. The writings are almost always simple, straightforward, and profound. More than anything, it reminds me of Buddhism, with echoes of 12-step programs.
Back to the lack of writing. The long days with nothing to show for them. One thing the stoics value is self-discipline, and a whole month of readings was devoted to that idea,. It suddenly came to me that maybe what I needed to do was simply do the work.
Discipline.
I tried. More days of spinning my wheels. The stoics, like the Buddhists, suggest observing your behavior.
I observed my behavior.
Which revealed my penchant for reading all of three newspapers, every day, before getting into my work. Because I’m a news junkie and I know myself well enough to know I will never stop needing to know and understand the world around me, I asked myself how to change that habit. Maybe read them after the work was finished?
Priorities.
Worth a try. As much chaos as there is in the world, I could still probably catch up in an hour or so. If I placed my writing in the hours I always had, first thing, before anything could interfere, maybe I’d be more successful getting words on the page.
Shocking how well it worked. Just shocking.
The final piece was understanding that my world really has changed. My partner, who has worked out of the house since we’ve known each other, was suddenly home. He’s a loner, just as I am, and is perfectly able to entertain himself, but in all my thirty years writing, the only time I’d had people home with me during work hours was summertime with my kids. Ages ago.
It was far more of an adjustment than I expected. I felt disconnected and not myself, and it took weeks to understand that it was this was interfering with my process the most.
Boundaries.
Like many women of my generation, I was raised to put family at the center of everything. (When I was first starting out, my office was in the very center of the house, right off the dining room, so I could hear in all directions and could be easily reached.) It was very hard for me to even articulate that having my partner home in the mornings was interfering with my ability to get into my book world.
The minute I brought it up, he started working on solutions. Neither of us could go out into the world, but he could drop the dogs at his doggie daycare (open because frontline workers used the service) and go up to the mountains and set orienteering courses in the back country a couple of days a week.
That helped, but it was only two days a week. I tried my noise-cancelling headphones, but they didn’t really transport me, so I brainstormed. I knew it was some kind of boundary issue, but couldn’t quite get to it until one day when he was working on something downstairs, and I needed to take one of my 10-20 minute nap breaks. My usual practice is to keep my bedroom fairly dark in the morning and then I can just pop in there and lie down for a few minutes when I get to a natural break. I’ll actually fall asleep for 15-20 minutes, wake up refreshed, and get back to work.
But I hadn’t been doing this. My partner’s usual spot to read or watch something on his iPad is in that very bedroom. Which was fine if it happened in the late afternoon or evenings, but if he was there in the morning, I couldn’t do my little catnaps the same way.
Also, I realized I didn’t even want him on the same floor. If I was to experience the sense of being alone that gave me the opening to my book world, I couldn’t feel him moving around upstairs. I wanted him on another level entirely.
It was extremely hard for me to ask for this. I didn’t want him to feel exiled, and it seemed so selfish that I couldn’t make this little transition during a really topsy-turvy time.
And yet, what did it cost him to take his books and iPad and cat and go down to our perfectly comfortable living room on the first floor? Absolutely nothing, and he was happy to do it—once I could articulate it.
I recognize that there’s a lot of privilege in that story, that I live in a big enough house to make that work, that I have the luxuriousness of time to allow for cat naps whenever I want. I don’t have children, which I have to say would probably have derailed me rather desperately.
But perhaps you, with whatever your challenges are during this weird time, will find some nugget of help in discipline, priorities, and boundaries. I’m happy to say I’m only a few days from completing my 2021 book, and it feels great.
(Also, he’s out running this morning.)
Hey, it’s great to be back here at WU after my hiatus. How’s it been going for you with this upside down world? Have you found some hacks to get your creative work done, or has it been impossible? Share your tricks or sorrows in the comments.
About Barbara O'Neal
Barbara O'Neal has written a number of highly acclaimed novels, including 2012 RITA winner, How To Bake A Perfect Life, which landed her in the RWA Hall of Fame and was a Target Club Pick. She is a highly respected teacher who also publishes material for writers at Patreon.com/barbaraoneal. She is at work on her next novel to be published by Lake Union in July. A complete backlist is available here.
First, it’s so great to see you back here today, Barbara! You’ve been missed.
I’m going to sound copy-cat because what has worked for me is similar to what has worked for you. Key is delaying the news. Hitting the work, getting it into my head first thing is also key. I’ve already put in nearly two hours today, and because of that, I should be able to reengage after my husband settles into his new office down the hall. When he’s up, I’m not working. My work is both evolving in satisfying ways, and saving my sanity. It may not be the most important thing happening in the world—or even my own world—but it is once again in the quadrant (ala Stephen Covey) of “Important and Urgent.” I think I grappled with that for a long time, because how could it be either of those things, especially in the face of all of our current trials. But for me the answer is that I need it… to survive emotionally, and to keep a tether to myself so that I am not lost.
Thanks for being here! Write on, friend.
That early morning block really is the savior of the work, isn’t it? I don’t even have to get up particularly early (though it’s better if I do), but just going right to the page before anything else makes a big difference. I’ve installed a tea center in my office, with kettle and cups and a tiny fridge for milk. :)
Hardly a word in this beautifully written essay that I couldn’t relate to! Substitute popcorn for Starburst, but otherwise pretty much a fit. My story also has to do with a partner who’s a loner, working at home as I am since March 8, and I too had to ask for what I needed even though it felt icky and awkward since he was already giving me so much space. Pre-COVID, my frenetic schedule meant that I didn’t get home until 8:00 or 9:00 three nights a week, and we ate dinner separately on those days. Suddenly we were eating dinner together seven nights a week. That’s every single dinner! I was sick of talking about politics and pandemics, and he was sick of hearing about my writing, and I just wanted to eat dinner without having to talk. So I asked for eat-by-myself Fridays. It’s just one meal, one hour; you’d think it wouldn’t matter all that much but it does, and I think it has to do with the clarity it takes to ask for what you need and the trust that the other person will grant it or that you will grant it to yourself. That knowledge helps to center me and calm me down. If I’m edgy and anxious, I can’t write. Small things can shift my inner state just enough to make a difference. A quick swim. Pulling some weeds in the garden. Reconnecting with the body, and with the silence from which the words can come …
How I wish I could swim! I miss it desperately, but am not comfortable going to a public pool.
Laughing at the 7 meals a week. I would add, “and lunch!” But I need to not be out of my headspace and established early on that we’d have lunches in our own time and spaces.
As a fellow news-junkie (I keep hoping for good news) I can relate to the sinkhole of going there first. When I don’t, my head is in a better place. The world will still be there when I come up for air. Well, so far, anyway. My husband and I caretake a farm whose owners got stuck in HI when the pandemic hit. Husband is out on the tractor a lot and is also great at leaving me alone. It has made out marriage work. The challenge, though, is not to sink into despair at the madness happening around us. I’ve found that reading history, all sorts, is helping me take a longer view. Glad to see you here again, Barbara. Stay well!
Great idea on the history reading. I reread Connie Willis’s Doomsday Book pretty early on, and it really did make me feel better.
Barbara I think I’m a bit depressed. Because I can’t write and for these reasons. As I mentioned in my recent guest post we are moving during a pandemic. We are now at a relative’s waiting for the closing, for our life in boxes to arrive. And though I have my computer I don’t have my keyboard. So we ordered another. I sit and stare at the blank screen and I read and take notes on paper. If only I could write it wouldn’t matter what room what floor what time. So I’m hanging in there. Wishing you well.
That sounds rough, Beth. I hope you’re able to get settled soon.
Welcome back, Barbara. You’ve been missed.
Like you, I don’t need an actual interruption to be kept out of a deep-writing headspace. I require only the possibility of the same. And that’s made navigating my husband’s semi-retirement a challenge at times. Fortunately, he also likes periods to himself, so we’ve done well. Initially tentative requests for space have become more frank as the trust and honesty expand. In fact, maybe I’ll count those improved communication and boundary skills as one benefit of Covid. Gotta tally those up–the benefits, that is. It’s all too easy to see the heartbreak and challenges.
My best to you and yours.
“Tally-up…the benefits.” Such true words. Thanks, Jan.
Many have struggled. Yet there has been a sense of solidarity. By everyone experiencing the pandemic together, we can find strength and hope from each other. God’s grace will sustain us in every difficult situation.
Barb, it’s great to have your words to read. It’s wonderful that you’ve been able to apply the wisdom of the stoics to your life. I recently started reading them as well, courtesy of my son because as a student of history and politics, he’s brought home all kinds of good books to read, some of them ancient.
Oh, how it pained me to learn of some of my friends’ parents dying alone without the comfort of loved ones to hold hands and pray. It is such a tragedy. Love cares nothing for safety or comfort but being together.
My biggest sorrow came from not being able to go to Mass and missing my church family and choir. My son and I did not go on our mission trip to Calcutta, out chant workshop canceled. I didn’t even realize I was depressed until it lifted when we could return to Mass. But we are aware of the many blessings in our lives–having our college kids with us, sharing meals and conversations and prayers. I’ve not been able to focus on my novel so I turned to working on short stories and poems. My daughter made some art for me. It’s been such fun to self-publish a little book for beginning readers.
I’ve had to adjust to everybody studying or working from home but we all have a need for solitude and have the space for it. I am blessed to have a room of my own as are the kids. My husband bears the heaviest burdens and his sacrifices allow the rest of us to pursue our creative interests. We all enjoy food and cooking so are eating a lot more but the increased weight is making me feel more lethargic. Now that it’s summer, we go to the beach more often to play in the ocean in the evenings. And I’m excited again to work on my novel.
I pray you and yours stay well. God bless.
Not being able to go to mass/church/religious services was the biggest sorrow for many, I think. And I’m sorry you missed your trip to Calcutta. I had to cancel a trip to Varanasi, and I’m very sad about it.
Barbara, I can’t understand why you chose Starburst over broccoli florets. Yes, strange days, which for me alternate between yawningly long and mind-numbingly short–where have the months gone? I am a news junkie myself, and though that’s better than heroin, it has the same evil addictive qualities.
I have wrestled too with reading many mainstream news sources every morning, and have cut it to one (which yet might not be healthy). And I have set calendar reminders to write for certain short periods of the day, and that has been effective (though I haven’t been that stoic about it).
My sensitivities have been pricked as well with sharing the house with my sweetheart for the last while, after writing in our ’66 Airstream for 10 years. We are slowly, stumblingly refurbishing it, with some end blearily in sight; it would be good to be back where I can’t hear business calls and personal fussing—and she won’t miss my own. At least I can retreat to the bedroom for my own savored naps.
In the midst of global sadness, my mother died a bit over a month ago, a person I deeply loved and admired, and the biggest influence in me becoming a writer. Yesterday would have been her birthday; we celebrated with a lingering candle and old photos.
Discipline, priorities and boundaries, all good. I’m also trying to find a couple of things a day—tiny things, like a hawk screeching above, or a hummingbird flitting at the water garden—to note and savor. It all helps to get by.
Tom, my deepest sympathies to you over the loss of your mother. Happy birthday to her.
I do think it helps to remember to celebrate little things, like my two tuxedo cats standing on either side of a large hare sculpture in the garden or the extraordinary blue of the sky over the mountains.
That Airstream sounds amazing.
Tom, I’m so sorry. God rest her soul. I’m sorry you don’t even have Malibu during this difficult time. Sending love and prayers your way.
Barbara and Vijaya, my thanks to you both for the warm words.
Welcome back! And thanks for a thoughtful and actionable post that addresses a problem I’m a little relieved to see I’m not alone in having. But I bet I’m also not alone in wanting to know this:
What’s the name of the book of Stoic daily readings?
I think I need to start reading it, like, yesterday!
Stay safe and healthy!
How remiss of me! The title is The Daily Stoic, by Ryan Holiday. He has a website, too, with lots of good stuff. (I think the book has been wildly successful.)
The Stoics are so helpful. The news is not. All true. I’ve managed, but it has been very difficult for one reason.
I have enemies.
My main enemies are my wife, kids, dog and garden. These are no respecters of boundaries. My wife loves having me at home to—at last!—witness and share the daily burdens. My kids have an on-call, 24/7 IT director.
Our dog had knee surgery this summer and I am her personal wheelchair, carrying her up and down steps and across expanses of slippery hardwood floors. For her, I have the most sympathy.
As to the garden, don’t get me started. Things grow. What is wrong with them? It does not help that we have ten—count ‘em—gigantic flower beds and a lawn to rival Versailles.
Add to this that my day job has tripled in busyness. Not a bad thing, mind you, but another challenge. Now, I love my wife, kids and dog. I truly enjoy my work. And honestly, our gardens look amazing, I am a changed man. (I’ll send you pictures.)
But writing? It is a good thing that must compete with other good things. Because I am at home and the coffee bars are take-out only, it has become a criminal activity, stealthily conducted in the dawn penumbra and snatched blearily before bed.
But it happens. That’s something. I will never be Zen Barbara, but there is something about a story that simply is. I accept that. Does that make me a Stoic? I hope so.
I would know your voice in one paragraph with no name. Good to see you!
Your account of your (overly) full life made me think of the quote from Zorba the Greek, “God changes his appearance every second. Blessed is the man who can recognize him in all his disguises.”
My garden is the best it has ever been–funny how they thrive with constant attention. I would really love to see your pictures.
So very glad to see you back, Barbara! I love your columns so very much.
Like you, I’ve struggled to write. I spend too much time on social media, and that means seeing awful news, hearing awful things, seeing how awful people are being to each other…how to get away from it? I’ve found that if I stay away from it for the majority of the day, I can work. But there are some days it all just overwhelms me, and I give myself permission to grieve, to be angry, to feel sorrow…
I think we all need to definitely give ourselves grace during this time. It’s so tumultuous, that expecting ourselves to go on normally and do things as we normally do is a Herculean task.
Yes, Melissa, absolutely. Writers are a sensitive lot, and it’s our nature to absorb the world, so we do need time to grieve and rage and live in the bewilderment.
So great to have you back! I’ve always enjoyed your WU posts so much.
And, as others have commented, I’ve had the same experience. In the first days of the lockdown, I got into the bad habit of scrolling for every new headline and obsessing about it all. The worst thing about this is that I’ve long had the habit of getting up, getting coffee and getting to my writing first thing.
But my obsessive need to know everything changed all that. Until I realized how little writing I was getting done, and how cloudy my brain had gotten. Obvious answer–get back to writing first.
I’m not always 100% successful, but most of the time I’m pretty good. The difference this makes in my mental state is enormous.
And, for the record, my Starburst is popcorn–as Barbara Linn Probst commented also.
Hi, Charlotte! Good to see you, too.
Popcorn doesn’t strike me as such a terrible habit. I did throw my Starburst away after awhile and am back to my usual things. Watermelon through the summer.
My writing stalled BEFORE the pandemic – so, yeah. Dang!
When I did write rather prolifically years back, I was lucky enough, like you, at the time, to write without worry about making income – all I did was write! wheee!
Now, I AM the income – lawd (pronounced LAWD)! But, on the flip side, I have only me, and my wonky-toothed dog (pronounced dawg) and no one else bothering me while I write – when I write – eventually – the novel – next week! I promise!
Nice essay! Pass the starburst but make mine chocolate – or vodka.
I’ve never written without a need for an income, not in 30 years.
Usually when I stall (without external influences) it’s because I’ve taken a wrong turn, for whatever that’s worth.
Good luck.
Love seeing you back here, my friend!
Well, I could have written this article, down to the point you made about needing your husband on a different floor as you while you write. It’s distracting. It brings an essence of reality into a realm that I need to be make-believe. It’s like having your nightmare teacher or your scolding mother intrude on your favorite dream. It makes all of those plot threads and brilliant dialogue exchanges vanish in an instant. Poof.
I’ve had to make all of these adjustments myself. Work early, or at least before news or social media. Work with headphones and also with no one on the same floor as me. Be flexible about expectations and word count. Oh, and my Covid crutch has been fun with baking. (MAKE IT STOP)
Glad you’re back in the groove–I can’t wait to see what you’re cooking up next. I’ll see you in the trenches, GF.
x
And I do only have my partner, not children, too. All is well!
One single hack: the time will pass, regardless of how I use it – so what do I want to have used it for?
I can’t affect the outside world. I’m in complete lockdown in our retirement community. Voting in November is a foregone conclusion. We send money to support our charities.
But my time (when and if I have a functioning brain – not a given with ME/CFS) gets used to write. All of it.
Even then the second volume in my mainstream trilogy moves slowly toward the finale I can’t wait to write – but I have no control over that except what I’ve already exerted.
I’m going to look back – and it better be written as quickly as I can. The pandemic ate my excuses (except the physical ones)!
Glad that you are back at WU!
I too have difficulty focusing on writing if family members are around. I think it is because of the sense that I need to be attentive to them. I’ve had conversations with my husband about how we could structure everyone being home all the time in a way that still gives me writing headspace. He’s open to adapting to what I need, but it’s hard to explain to him that writing is not like a job where you go to the office and just keep slogging on the task at hand. It’s like trying to find the magic door to another world and that door only appears when this world is quiet enough. I will do some observing and see if I can’t figure out how to spatially re-adapt my world to make the magic door reappear. Thanks for giving me the strategy and the focus to try to figure this out.
Yes, yes. Exactly–looking for a magic door. It takes time to get through it, settle in, and it really doesn’t take much to knock us out of there.
Hope you can figure out some ways to let that door open.