I can write all day because I live alone

We forget how complicated other lives can be

It’s National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). Even though the original NaNoWriMo company folded last year, many writers have accepted the challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days. That is about 200 double-spaced pages. To keep on pace, one needs to average 1,700 words a day, seven days a week. (For comparison, this post is about 1,000 words)

I have taken on that challenge for the fourth novel in my Up Beaver Creek series. I have done it before but not always finished. I have a plaque and a NaNoWriMo mug for encouragement. So far this month, I’m on track, writing more than 27,000 words or 100 pages as of yesterday.

The novel will not be finished on Nov. 30. I will need about 30,000 more words and months of editing. But I have made a good start.

I am not alone in this endeavor. Many other writers have signed up, working alone or with various organizations.

Yesterday, I met online with a group of NaNo writers to share our progress and plans for the week. One after another said they had done very little on their projects since Nov. 1. This one has small children. That one has an older disabled child who needs constant attention. Another has a grown child currently in crisis. Another is busy sharing activities with his wife. Some have jobs, as I once did. They want to do the writing but can’t find the time.

As a self-employed person living alone, I have so much time. It’s a gift I frequently fail to appreciate. It takes me on average two and a half hours to write my 1,700 words. I polish the previous day’s writing a bit then go into new material. By the time I finish my daily stint, I am pooped. Also obsessed.

Because I have no children, partner or aging parents, not even a pet needing my attention, I can dive into my fictional world until I’m ready to emerge. It takes intense concentration to write a novel, at least for me. While I’m writing, I am living the lives of my characters.

When PD is sitting in the dark in the middle of a raging storm that knocked out the electricity, I feel cold and in the dark, too. When she is talking to her friend Eugenia, I am there, sipping tea and eating marijuana cookies by the fireplace. I believe their imaginary homes up Beaver Creek Road actually exist. It’s like that time-travel series I watched on Netflix recently. When I dive into the pond and go to the other place, I am fully there, oblivious to what’s happening at home.

Nor do I forget about my fictional world when I emerge. While I’m doing real-life things like cooking, laundry, or my daily walk, I keep stopping to capture something else I just realized about my story.

Last Saturday, I was soaking in the hot tub when a whole scene started playing out in my mind. I had to get out, dry off and start typing. I completed two days worth of writing that day.

Sometimes I’m not paying attention in real life. The other night, I made a spinach soup recipe that uses a can of cream of potato soup.* I have been making it for years. Very easy. I had eaten several spoonfuls before I realized I had forgotten the potato soup because I was busy making notes about the events in Beaver Creek. Laughing at myself, I put it back in the pot, added the missing ingredient, and started again.

You can’t be that scattered when people are counting on you. Nor can you expect them to eat spinach soup for supper three days in a row while you’re busy writing.

This is why writers go on retreats, to get some alone time to focus on their work without having to worry about family, food or anything else. I live on a retreat. I need to go somewhere else to be among people.

At yesterday’s Zoom meeting, I found myself disapproving of those who hadn’t done much writing. Why did they sign up if they weren’t going to try? But then I remembered from past lives how hard it is to claim two uninterrupted hours every day when you’re lucky to find two minutes before someone is calling your name.

This is the blessing and the curse of being alone. You can dive into whatever you’re passionate about, but if you don’t have that kind of passion to fill your days, the hours get very long.

I plan to keep working steadily on the novel, even on Thanksgiving. Just having the time doesn’t mean I don’t want to quit every other day because it’s hard to keep building a story out of nothing, but it’s also magic. I discovered that magic as a child, and I don’t ever want to let it go. After 30 years of newspaper work, I know I can churn out words even when I don’t feel like it. For this first draft, they don’t have to perfect. They just need to be there.

I used to envision my senior years as sitting at home weaving or quilting while watching TV or listening to music. Maybe I’ll do that later. If there’s time.

Let’s Talk

Where do you find the magic in your life? What can you do alone that you wouldn’t have time for if you weren’t alone? Do you know others who spend all day doing something they love? If you’re not alone, is there something you wish you had more time to do?

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Thanksgiving update: A family I often spend holidays with has invited me for Thanksgiving dinner. I will go there in the afternoon. But before that, I invite you to join me on Zoom from 11 am to noon Pacific time for a live open house. We’ll just get acquainted and chat about anything you want. If you’d like to come, please put your email address in the comments or send it to me privately. I will send you a link and a reminder or two. I look forward to seeing your beautiful faces.

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Emerald Soup

1 10-oz. pkg. chopped frozen spinach
1/2 c. chopped onion
¼ c. water
1 can cream of potato soup
1 can cream of chicken soup
3 1/2 c. milk (I use Lactaid milk)
garlic powder and salt to taste

Cook spinach and onion in ¼ c. water until tender. Add remaining ingredients and heat. Makes 4-6 servings. 

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.