Great post, thank you. Just wanted to add that the film you mentioned—“The Outrun”—was phenomenal and truly gorgeous from a cinematic perspective. I especially loved when she conducted the ocean waves.
There were so many elements of this post that I loved...first, that you are back. Then, your use of the waves tumbling in and feeling soaked by so many things. Also, your reflections on process - on your characters as Frankensteins and Mr. Hydes charting their own moves despite whatever plans you might have had for them. Finally, I loved your description of your Alone Self, so ready to "leap at the opportunity to spread out." Lately, I often feel (hopefully without showing it) easily annoyed and impatient and when I have the gift of solitude, I Breathe, I am full of light, I write, I check things off my list! We are lucky to feel that way about being alone I think. And can I tell you how much I love the painting of the little girl, knees up in her bed, gazing off? Oh, it struck a chord!
I was just recently missing your voice and then this lovely, soothing post showed up in my inbox. I was very happy to read it, to "hear" you in my brain again. Recently, writing for me has been a series of setbacks and second guessing, and reading this reminded me of the times (of which there have been so many, this one just came to mind first) when, in class, you gave us 45 minutes to write, and even though there were people all around me, I was alone with my little story and my characters, who I love and know like my own family, and 45 minutes passed in the blink of an eye. What a wonder, to know that kind of solitude. Thank you for reminding me.
This was written with such grace and softness. I cherish the solitude found in writing—a childhood feeling familiar to this only child. It is my sanctuary and solace.
This was so relatable in every way, Alice. I thought I was the only one with an "Alone Self" and was always faintly startled at her sudden appearance just as you describe here.
Whenever my ex-husband went away on business, I immediately reverted to the wild, eating whenever I wanted and sometimes the same thing three days in a row, staying up later than usual, deciding to tackle a painting project at 5 am or gardening till there was no more light.
It was liberating. I cherish that self, still, although also like you I do enjoy living with another person. But it's comforting to know that the Alone Self remains, always standing by.
As always, this was beautiful Alice. Now that I’m back in New England and living alone, I think about the indulgence of solitude all the time. It’s also something I somewhat feared but now fully embrace. Thanks for putting words to thoughts so well!
I used to dread the aloneness of writing, which, strangely, was when my life was most peopled, young kids, etc. Now I crave it; it is a gift to be alone, in communion with oneself, during creation.
I am never alone! Oh well, I am often de-peopled but remain tethered to two needy dogs - one of whom has learned how to open the back door, but not to close it. I often write in intervals when I have an hour or so of relative calm. It’s why my stuff is riddled with typos - mostly dropped words, but sometimes misspellings. To be really alone with no obligations other than to write; that would be a gift.
Thank you for this post! I’m delighted to look forward to your next novel and more from you here. Solitude is my favorite thing, and has been so rare for me in my life. I do my best writing in the wee hours because of the improbability of being interrupted. I hear there is a loneliness epidemic in the world but I have never felt lonely.
Thank you so much for putting words and an image in my head to an experience I resonate with. I loved the imagery of an alone self swimming next me while I do the parts of life that I also find meaningful. Just to imagine her swimming next to me content to be alongside, feels beautiful.
I too, am grateful for this place, not as an escape but as an almost spiritual realm I can access in the current times. Thank you.
Reading this early in the morning in the dark before sunrise…writing must be a very solitary practice…which requires an all consuming social sacrifice. Not unlike those antelopes who offer themselves unselfishly…
I have missed you and wondered, but hoped you were there with your story. I love how you say we are alone and not alone, we are alone and peopled. I think that when I am not writing, and I am not writing, I miss this reason to be alone. Thank you for your always gorgeously articulated thoughts.
What a marvelous essay! I will read it again and again. Did not realize how much I needed this. The companionship and wisdom of one who knows that odd/wonderful place of novel immersion; the compatriotism of our brutal witness to brutality — thank you so much.
Love this: I sat quietly and listened.
Hi Alice! Can’t believe it’s been two years since breadloaf! So happy to have found you on Substack!
Great post, thank you. Just wanted to add that the film you mentioned—“The Outrun”—was phenomenal and truly gorgeous from a cinematic perspective. I especially loved when she conducted the ocean waves.
There were so many elements of this post that I loved...first, that you are back. Then, your use of the waves tumbling in and feeling soaked by so many things. Also, your reflections on process - on your characters as Frankensteins and Mr. Hydes charting their own moves despite whatever plans you might have had for them. Finally, I loved your description of your Alone Self, so ready to "leap at the opportunity to spread out." Lately, I often feel (hopefully without showing it) easily annoyed and impatient and when I have the gift of solitude, I Breathe, I am full of light, I write, I check things off my list! We are lucky to feel that way about being alone I think. And can I tell you how much I love the painting of the little girl, knees up in her bed, gazing off? Oh, it struck a chord!
I was just recently missing your voice and then this lovely, soothing post showed up in my inbox. I was very happy to read it, to "hear" you in my brain again. Recently, writing for me has been a series of setbacks and second guessing, and reading this reminded me of the times (of which there have been so many, this one just came to mind first) when, in class, you gave us 45 minutes to write, and even though there were people all around me, I was alone with my little story and my characters, who I love and know like my own family, and 45 minutes passed in the blink of an eye. What a wonder, to know that kind of solitude. Thank you for reminding me.
This was written with such grace and softness. I cherish the solitude found in writing—a childhood feeling familiar to this only child. It is my sanctuary and solace.
This was so relatable in every way, Alice. I thought I was the only one with an "Alone Self" and was always faintly startled at her sudden appearance just as you describe here.
Whenever my ex-husband went away on business, I immediately reverted to the wild, eating whenever I wanted and sometimes the same thing three days in a row, staying up later than usual, deciding to tackle a painting project at 5 am or gardening till there was no more light.
It was liberating. I cherish that self, still, although also like you I do enjoy living with another person. But it's comforting to know that the Alone Self remains, always standing by.
Thank you for this!
As always, this was beautiful Alice. Now that I’m back in New England and living alone, I think about the indulgence of solitude all the time. It’s also something I somewhat feared but now fully embrace. Thanks for putting words to thoughts so well!
I used to dread the aloneness of writing, which, strangely, was when my life was most peopled, young kids, etc. Now I crave it; it is a gift to be alone, in communion with oneself, during creation.
I am never alone! Oh well, I am often de-peopled but remain tethered to two needy dogs - one of whom has learned how to open the back door, but not to close it. I often write in intervals when I have an hour or so of relative calm. It’s why my stuff is riddled with typos - mostly dropped words, but sometimes misspellings. To be really alone with no obligations other than to write; that would be a gift.
Thank you for this post! I’m delighted to look forward to your next novel and more from you here. Solitude is my favorite thing, and has been so rare for me in my life. I do my best writing in the wee hours because of the improbability of being interrupted. I hear there is a loneliness epidemic in the world but I have never felt lonely.
Thank you so much for putting words and an image in my head to an experience I resonate with. I loved the imagery of an alone self swimming next me while I do the parts of life that I also find meaningful. Just to imagine her swimming next to me content to be alongside, feels beautiful.
I too, am grateful for this place, not as an escape but as an almost spiritual realm I can access in the current times. Thank you.
Reading this early in the morning in the dark before sunrise…writing must be a very solitary practice…which requires an all consuming social sacrifice. Not unlike those antelopes who offer themselves unselfishly…
I am keen to read your book!
Leslie Lord
Stunning writing. I recognize that alone person who has never been given a shape or a voice until today. I thank you for that.
I have missed you and wondered, but hoped you were there with your story. I love how you say we are alone and not alone, we are alone and peopled. I think that when I am not writing, and I am not writing, I miss this reason to be alone. Thank you for your always gorgeously articulated thoughts.
What a marvelous essay! I will read it again and again. Did not realize how much I needed this. The companionship and wisdom of one who knows that odd/wonderful place of novel immersion; the compatriotism of our brutal witness to brutality — thank you so much.