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jackshoegazerMy work schedule is an odd, bi-weekly alternating fiasco wherein I work four shifts a week, but never work more than three nights consecutive. I stay at Jacquelyn's place while I'm working, rather than commute back and forth to Watertown.
However, this week there was a mighty bad snowstorm on my day off, so I've been in Madison for almost a solid week. Reflecting upon this and my LJ posting, I pondered the following while walking in the cold pre-dawn air this morning.
I don't write as much when I'm here. I only write now because Jacquelyn is still sleeping and I have the apartment to myself, quiet, except for scurrying cats and the hiss and pings of the old radiator heating system. Throughout the normal time I'm here, I can barely summon the concentration to reply to my comments, let alone write posts or anything else.
I've discovered why writer's run off in solitude to work. Even writing something as simple as a letter of inquiry for a job, composing my University of Wisconsin application essay, I needed solitude. When John and I wrote the Book, we were basically sequestered in our apartment for two months with minimal interruptions. We wrote from after breakfast until after dinner with minimal breaks.
Don't assume I don't enjoy my time with Jacquelyn, far from, I love it, however, I find that it's not just here, but in general. At my home in Watertown, I can't work when my roommate is around. It's like I can't be myself when others are around, even if they are quiet, it's as if their mere consciousness affects my concentration, like electromagnetic energy altering my brainwaves.
Perhaps this links together with the idea of hunting, the lone trek into the woods, the den, the garage, the workshop; many initiation rituals place the neophyte alone for three days. It is true that like chemistry, we are all affected my different people, so that we are different people depending on who we are with. So this begs the question, are we only truly ourselves when we are isolated? And therefore our only true work is birthed from that time that we are alone.
Are we hermits first and friends, siblings, parents and lovers second? Or is it just me?
.
However, this week there was a mighty bad snowstorm on my day off, so I've been in Madison for almost a solid week. Reflecting upon this and my LJ posting, I pondered the following while walking in the cold pre-dawn air this morning.
I don't write as much when I'm here. I only write now because Jacquelyn is still sleeping and I have the apartment to myself, quiet, except for scurrying cats and the hiss and pings of the old radiator heating system. Throughout the normal time I'm here, I can barely summon the concentration to reply to my comments, let alone write posts or anything else.
I've discovered why writer's run off in solitude to work. Even writing something as simple as a letter of inquiry for a job, composing my University of Wisconsin application essay, I needed solitude. When John and I wrote the Book, we were basically sequestered in our apartment for two months with minimal interruptions. We wrote from after breakfast until after dinner with minimal breaks.
Don't assume I don't enjoy my time with Jacquelyn, far from, I love it, however, I find that it's not just here, but in general. At my home in Watertown, I can't work when my roommate is around. It's like I can't be myself when others are around, even if they are quiet, it's as if their mere consciousness affects my concentration, like electromagnetic energy altering my brainwaves.
Perhaps this links together with the idea of hunting, the lone trek into the woods, the den, the garage, the workshop; many initiation rituals place the neophyte alone for three days. It is true that like chemistry, we are all affected my different people, so that we are different people depending on who we are with. So this begs the question, are we only truly ourselves when we are isolated? And therefore our only true work is birthed from that time that we are alone.
Are we hermits first and friends, siblings, parents and lovers second? Or is it just me?
.
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no subject
Date: 2006-02-20 10:24 pm (UTC)It's hard to create in someone else's space. Once it is your joint place, it might flow like Niagara.
Someone once told me that collaborating was like pissing while someone else held your dick... While I know you aren't collaborating, maybe the freshness of being in the same place together just can't wear off enough for you to feel that solo creativity vibe.
But yeah, personally I find it easier to create when isolated because I lose track of time and forget things like eating, which is hard to do when other people are around. Maybe establishing a few weird rules like, "pretend Jeremy is invisible when he's in the groove" might help. Or not.
no subject
Date: 2006-02-21 11:12 pm (UTC)