Friday, March 30, 2007

nine months since graduation?!? (writing as pregnancy)

I could never be at peace again till I had written ... it burned me from within. It quickened; I was with book, as a woman is with child.—C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

It sounds like a funny claim, doesn’t it? (Especially as I have never been pregnant, and arguably don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about.) But writing does feel like a kind of pregnancy. I need to take enormous care of myself, body and mind alike, in order to produce something healthy and whole. I feel like I do everything for two reasons, for me and the book. I’m “eating for two,” as I’ve heard so many mothers say. I’m reading for two, I’m studying for two, I’m meeting new people for two.

You just never know what inspiration could be around the corner, in a chance paragraph, or an odd snatch of conversation.

I realized the other day that it’s been just over nine months since I graduated. Nine months! (And that’s where the pregnancy metaphor falls apart. This child-book is going to take much longer to finish!)

Early this week, I was visiting college classes with my younger sister, and, much as I still love to learn, it felt surreal to be there. Odd to be at a squeaky desk again, listening to a lecture. So much of my life has been spent studenting—strange that it no longer fits.

So I was thinking back to last year, especially last spring, when every day seemed to point to graduation and the huge chasm beyond. I think that it was last April that I was working on my final senior seminar project—that paper about my first year of writing.

Twenty minutes ago, I dug around in my closet for awhile, stirring up some dust, and I found that paper, finished May 12 of last year. It’s tightly written (probably better than what I’ve written recently!), proof that I had been reading widely at the time, and had tons of metaphors and examples at my disposal.

It is also terrified.

The tone is not of terror, but knowing myself, and how I seize up when stressed, how I hyper-plan and obsess over details . . . well, I was panicked. I planned everything I could get my hands on, in that paper. Where would I go, what would I do, who would I talk to, how would I behave as the new Writer-me. I knew it was impossible, planning for the unknown from my desk in the apartment, but I tried anyway.

It was a big order, though, stepping away from set expectations and routines, into the mire of self-employment and writerdom. And I wonder what the me of last year would think, if she could see me now, scribbling away. I am not nearly the Writer Extraordinaire who is described in that paper. Not by a long shot. It’s like the vocational equivalent of Barbie: We’ve all heard by now that no woman could possibly exist with Barbie’s measurements. Well—no person could live up to the bar set in that paper!

But I’m much happier now than I thought I would be then. The writing is still difficult, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m facing a mountain of research, but I have a wealth of sources right here in the house. (Mom got a degree in history, hence our huge history library. Hooray!) And there’s a world of difference between researching for myself and researching for a paper that (maybe) I’d rather not write.

There’s always more to do, but I’m also getting plenty of time away from the desk. I spent the last week in southern Missouri and in eastern Nebraska, “traveling for two,” enjoying the Ozark mountains and Midwestern cornfields.


the gorgeous view of Table Rock Lake from the cabin we stayed in

When we got back, I had a message from the doctor. According to my x-rays, the complicated cold I struggled with in Nashville was actually pneumonia! And so, my freaking-out of two weeks ago feels justified. Can you “get sick for two”? Probably not recommended for pregnant mothers, but everything’s fair game for a writer!—jl

Posted by Jenn Langefeld on 03/30 at 10:19 PM
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