The Quiet Kingdom

I can feel equally alone in a crowd as a silent hotel room. It’s the same sort of disquiet, that loneliness. It’s empty and frightens me a little, as when I’m walking in a strange city and get turned around and for a moment can’t remember the way back. There may be nothing worse than feeling lost. I prefer grief; though its pain is sharp, the suffering calls my attention back when it has wandered into a wasteland of distraction and fear.

Of course, one December my mom had flown in from Rhode Island for Christmas and she and I were watching football in the living room. Jen, my wife, didn’t care for the sport, and so went out to her writing studio to wrap presents. I was glad to share the game with Mom, but I was feeling a little guilty knowing Jen had to exile herself, and so as soon as the final whistle blew, I hustled out to see how she was doing. She stood surrounded paper and tape and ribbons looking forlorn.

“Oh, Jen, I’m sorry. I just never get to watch with her.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t mind that. I just got so lonely out here.”

She paused then and looked around the studio, at her writing desk and half-edited manuscript and the sketches laid out on her drawing table. “You know what’s weird though? When I’m working, I can be here for hours by myself and never feel lonely.”

I understood completely. I’ve known no better company than myself when I’m at peace. I’ll tell people it’s a happy consequence of working, the alive, creative solitude every writer enjoys. It’s not a lie, but I usually leave something out, feeling a familiar shyness thinking of those moments when nothing’s coming and I’m just staring at the wall, quite content just the same. Writing was merely an easy means to find my way to that quiet kingdom. I worry if I try to describe the pleasure of it, others might feel rejected, as no one could possibly join me there. Except there is perhaps nothing less unique than that holy place. That we travel alone to a destination we all share is how we know peace is end of every true story ever told. 

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Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
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