Living through the white space 💭
✨ Issue #62 ✨
You know when you’re reading a scene in a book or a story or an essay, and it ends, and then there’s that little bit of white space before the next scene picks up? Like this:
That bit of white space can be a useful tool, signaling the end of a moment or the passage of time. Or it can be a crutch the writer uses to cut away just as things are getting good, because she doesn’t know what the characters should do or say next, and somehow convinces herself that the white space will magically fill in the blanks.
It's a crutch I've familiar with, a bad literary habit I can't quite shake. Once, during a workshop in grad school, my professor asked me point-blank: “What’s going on in the white space?”
“Uhhh,” I said. I may have shrugged. I’m sure I blushed. At any rate, I did not know and that was the problem.
“Write through the white space,” he said. “Find out what’s happening there.”
I remembered his advice again this week, when I was working through a moment in my book that was not particularly exciting. The main character needed to get from point A to point B. I was tempted to simply start a new scene with her already in place, but then I thought about the white space that would require, and what might be lost in it. A feeling or a thought. A journey, and what she might see or notice along the way. I had to write through it, even if I cut it later, just in case that small moment of transition, that little bit of white space, held the key to everything.
Which makes me reconsider this moment in time, and the white space we’re currently living through. As one of the most disruptive and profound experiences of our lives unfolds, so many of us are looking for ways to leap from this uncomfortable and frightening scene to the next one. But what a loss that would be! It may not look or feel like it, but something is happening in this pause, this sliver of white space, this journey from point A to point B. We're traveling through it together, and maybe that's the key. Maybe that's everything. 💛
Snack of the Week
What do you do when your governor (rightly) extends stay-at-home orders for another two weeks? Anxiety bake, of course! This week I made Blueberry Cornbread Muffins from Once Upon a Chef. I chose this recipe because the ingredient list included lemon zest, which I feel is INTEGRAL and NECESSARY for any and all blueberry-related recipes. One bite of these sweet, crumbly, zesty muffins, and I guarantee you will agree.
Relatable Reads
Why I’m Giving Myself Permission to Keep Writing at This Time, Longreads. "We are living in interesting times — I would argue too interesting. There will be things to say about it, now, and in the future. Let yourself say them, if you want to." There are a bunch of good links at the end of this essay for writing prompts, challenges, and opportunities. If you're feeling creative, it's definitely worth checking out! ✍️
The Three Equations for a Happy Life, Even During a Pandemic, The Atlantic. "Don’t obsess about your haves; manage your wants, instead. Don’t count your possessions (or your money, power, prestige, romantic partners, or fame) and try to figure out how to increase them; make an inventory of your worldly desires and try to decrease them." This is the first article in a new series about the study of happiness, and it looks like it's going to be a good little crash course! ☮️
This Is A Good Time To Start A Garden. Here's How, NPR. We recently planted sunflower seedlings in our front yard, and they are supposed to grow to be twelve feet tall!!! If it works, you'll be the first to know. 🌻
A Tiny Challenge
Speaking of transitions, April is almost over and May is on her heels. I'm a Passion Planner devotee, and at the end of the each month it asks you to answer a series of questions. My favorite is, "How are you different between this past month and the month before it?" Don't let April fall into the clutches of white space; dig deep and find an answer.
See you next Sunday! 💌
Thanks to Katie S. for supporting So Relatable last week!
The white space in my bank account is grateful.
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