Not writing IS writing
or Not Letting the Bad Guys Win
I am not, by any stretch of the most fevered imagination, writing a political Substack but it is impossible to ignore that today is the eve of the inauguration. You know which one.
My garden where I plan to spend the day tomorrow, cold but happy.
So I sit with a heavy heart and little appetite for writing a lightweight, chatty, inconsequential piece about my writing week. But if I pull the covers over my head and give it a miss then it is another, however insignificant, win for the bad guys and that, it seems to me, is how they prevail. Word by word, article by article, book by book. So here is the story of my writing week or, as it turned out, my not writing week.
12th JANUARY
I left you here last week having just seen the English National Ballet production of the Nutcracker with my granddaughter. The outing was meant to mark my official end to Christmas (rather like the King’s official birthday) and the week ahead was marked in my diary as ‘WRITING’. But (there seems to be so many ‘buts’ when it comes to writing) two old friends called. Not literally, but in my head and heart. Rosemary from EMMA Theatre Company days and Ann from Northern Film School days. Both had big life events going on and both lived within a few miles of each other in Derbyshire. I felt the need to visit them both so it was straight from the Coliseum to St. Pancras (N.B. I deposited granddaughter with parents on the way).
13th JANUARY
I wake early in the attic bedroom of Ann’s house and am instantly infused with guilt that I’m not working on my book. However, as I dress, the phrase keeps wafting into my head ‘not doing is doing’. I think I first heard it many years ago from my sister-in-law, a yoga teacher who explained that the Daoist sage seeks to always be at one with whatever is happening – any necessary action will take place spontaneously as a part of oneness. Therefore, there is no need for premeditated interference - meaning no action. Munching Ann’s delicious home-made marmalade I decide to interpret that as ‘not writing is writing’ and set off walking down the Derbyshire lanes to my rendezvous with Rosemary, released from the worry of not writing. Instead, I worry about whether, when it is finally finished, there could possibly be room in the world for my book. At which very moment, I kid you not, I literally landed in front of this shop.
I take it as a sign from the Tao and go inside to revel in its riches. There would always be room for one more book, my book, in here.
I just need to finish it.
14th JANUARY
Ann and I talk and talk and talk – all the way to Matlock, all the way through the best sour dough cinnamon bun I’ve ever eaten at Sour Dough Dave’s and all the way back again. In the evening we watch JOY, a film about the team behind in-vitro fertilization. The story is fascinating but what gripped me the most was the credits. Screenplay by Jack Thorne. Who seems to write everything, all at once, everywhere. I very much doubt he subscribes to ‘not writing is writing’.
15th JANUARY
Wake up to a message from another ex-colleague, Teresa – she has a recording on Spotify and sends me the link which I instantly click on and find myself dancing around the room to a mad menopause rap as I pack for my journey home. I decide I want to post it on Notes as I really think any woman would love it, menopausal or not, and spend the next hour struggling with Spotify, Tunes and technology in general before giving up and throwing my phone in the Derwent. (metaphorically). I’ve tried to embed a LINK. Maybe it will work for you. Good luck.
16th JANUARY
I am home and my new alarm clock, bought to keep my phone out of my bedroom, wakes me (at 6:00 am) as planned. What I haven’t planned is whether to meditate, do yoga, go to swim, then come home and write OR write straight away for at least two hours, then meditate, do yoga, go to swim. Can’t make up my mind so retrieve phone from kitchen to see what’s going on, discuss the dilemma with Jan Cornall on Notes, two hours later remember that I have a lot of jobs to do in the garden and resolve to start my 2025 writing/wellbeing regime tomorrow. Still not decided what order to do it in.
17th JANUARY
Up at 6:00, meditate, yoga, go for a swim. Walking back, deep in thought about all the Notes and Posts I have seen on Substack about how writing is something one should do without any expectations of anyone reading it, but rather for the love of writing itself. Coming from a background of writing plays and films and even academic papers, this is not an easy one to get my head, or heart, around. The mantra is always ‘who is your audience’ and implicit in the question is the belief that there actually is someone out there who will want to watch it or read it. As I near my front door my eyes scan the pavement because it is bumpy from tree roots and I don’t want to trip. I see this:
Excuse my muddy boots
I’ve never noticed this one before although the artist is prolific in my neighbourhood, making miniature, detailed paintings on old chewing gum. No reward. No acknowledgement. The delight that I experience on happening on his work is something he will never know. Another sign from Tao?
18th January
Up at 6:00 am. Write all day and then go to a movie. I don’t meditate, yoga or swim. I choose to believe that not meditating, yoga-ing or swimming is meditating, yoga-ing and swimming. Writing was most definitely writing.
I have finally subscribed to Jen's Folly. Really enjoyed reading the piece you sent and the exploration of not doing as a form of doing.
There is a progression that I don't entirely understand of how to ride the experience of allowing yourself to be. To be immersed in the experiential nature of life rather than trying to control it or the process of creation. Perhaps it is the enriching nature of this practice itself that makes the rest of experience so lucid. Perhaps it is the surrender of doing that makes all the other forms of resistance melt away and opens the door to possibilities of doing at another level. Whatever it is, it seems to be about a willingness and an openness that allows what is in you to come out, bypassing the brain or using it in a way that circumnavigates fear and regret (which become resistance). So that the book is not really the thing. The thing is the experience of writing the book because of the intrinsic value of it. I think this is an important shift and one that is very difficult to maintain without things like meditation practice. Another gift of working solidly for 2 months raising puppies and giving them away. Like a Buddhist sand painting blowing with the wind.
I understand how your writing through theatre is strongly linked to production. Perhaps this makes it even more important to work with this process. With the awareness that writing is not writing and that writing is writing and editing and reading and rereading and all of the things that it is. I will get back to it soon and you have made me very happy to think that all this time my not writing has been writing.
Your week sounds very full and creative. Not-writing definitely is writing, I think, as it usually leads to the unquenchable urge to write.
You're right. It's hard to ignore today's inauguration and what might happen next. But life will continue - and I enjoyed this dip into your week a lot. Thank you.
PS the chewing gum artist was (presumably still is) the father of a girl who was (an extremely long time ago) in my son's class at primary school. Tall and thin, a head of thick dark curly hair, he was very good looking and smiled a lot but didn't say much in the playground at pick-up time. In fact, I can't remember him ever saying anything at all. Maybe his head was in his art, or maybe he was overwhelmed by all the talkative women - who knows?