It was such an incidental, fleeting moment … one that didn’t warrant special notice. And yet, I noticed.
On the evening of May 30, 2017, my daughter, Nikky, and I attended one of the last performances by Sara Bareilles in the lead role of the musical, “Waitress,” on Broadway. Right before the curtain went up, the actors could be seen taking their places behind the somewhat sheer curtain, with an apron-wearing Bareilles front and center. The image of what I saw after she stood on her mark—in those last few seconds before the curtain would rise—captivated me. Bareilles breathed in deeply, held it for a moment … then let it go. The breath was done; she was ready. The breath was part of her preparation.
Writing is my breath. It is my sustenance … it prepares me to take on the rest of life. To inhale is to contemplate; to exhale is to relax the shoulders, put pen to paper or fingers on the keyboard, and let go of the thoughts that burden my soul or the emotions that light up my heart. Put simply, writing clears my head and makes me feel ready for whatever comes next.
Writing puts me in “the zone.” When I’m writing—often at Starbucks, always with instrumental music flowing through AirPods—I can tune out most anything or anyone around me, except for the occasional loud talker. I’m not a fast writer; in fact, sometimes I’m painfully slow.
The joy—I’d go as far as to say the exhilaration—for me (and I’m sure many other writers) comes from the crafting of each sentence. Choosing words, playing with the rhythm and structure of sentences, creating interesting (but hopefully never pretentious) phrasing. There are times when I can sit for hours and never tire of the craft of writing. There are days when I might produce only a few good sentences. Other days I may leave Starbucks feeling wholly disappointed and discouraged. But I live to write another day.
As you can tell, I’m passionate about writing, which doesn’t mean that I’m always very disciplined about it. Although I often tell myself that I should be more disciplined and have a schedule of what writing project I’m going to work on and when, I’ve yet to accomplish that. I’m pretty easily distracted and am as guilty as the next person when it comes to checking social media when I should be solely-focused on getting the writing done. I’ve started using the Freedom app on my laptop during writing sessions; it enables me to block the websites and other apps that usually tempt me when I’m online. You know the ones: Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, YouTube, Amazon. I know many of us go down the same rabbit holes.
I get a notice on my iPhone each week telling me how much time I’ve spent using it over the previous seven days; this includes both calls and social media. I haven’t done an analysis, but I’m sure social media outnumbers my calls 3 or 4 to one.
When I received the notice for the first time, my jaw dropped. It had to be a mistake. There was no way I had spent 4 hours and 38 minutes on my phone in a week! Subsequent weeks, each with over four hours of usage, proved me wrong and my annoying phone right. I wish I could say that most of the 4+ hours I’m on my iPhone each week is spent on Google doing research, and the Merriam-Webster Dictionary & Thesaurus app. That would be a lie.
I’m not into following what the Kardashians are up to on the West coast, or if Justin and Hailey were spotted somewhere on the East Coast. But I am kind of sweet on following the news (despite how emotion-provoking it can be these days), and I like keeping up with family and friends on Facebook. And, being the stationery nerd that I am, there are always new pens and notebooks to check out. But my goodness … for 4 or 5 hours a week?!!!
Now, I realize that that amount of time may be a drop in the bucket when compared with the number of hours that high school and college students—and yes, plenty of adults—rack up on their phones. But here’s the thought that drives me just a little nuts when I consider my cell phone usage: In the amount of time I’ve stared at my iPhone over the past few years, I could have written the first draft of a decent length book, or at least gotten much further on the one I’m already writing. I won’t get that time back. All I can do moving forward is pick up my phone less and my pen more. And for a stationery nerd like me, that’s a challenge I willingly accept.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about why I feel so passionate about writing. Why has it become so important to me, especially over the past seven years as I’ve been fleshing out my memoir? Why has writing become my breath?
The answer comes down to one word: Stories.
Now, more than ever, we need to tell our stories. We need to find the common threads of our humanity. We need to share our stories in order to provide comfort to others and find it for ourselves. We need to tell our stories as a way of saying, “I understand” and “I’m with you.”
Each story I write breathes new life into my way of being in the world. It helps me to reflect on how I’ve made my way so far, perhaps what should change or stay the same going forward. Writing helps me get a better grasp on the “why” of things in life.
Writing stories is also what breathes life into my connection with each of you. I pray that you hear me saying, “I understand,” and “I’m with you.”
What is your breath?
What’s the thing that feeds you and keeps grounded? What prepares you to take on the rest of life? If you’d like to reply and share what that is, I’d love to hear from you.
(Photo Credit: by Unblock on Unsplash)
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Tess