The name
Stephanie Vanderslice often comes up when discussing best practices for
teaching writing. I’ve happily hosted her here on the blog before, and am pleased to welcome her
back. Her latest book, The
Geek’s Guide to the Writing Life,
is chock full of solid, writer-tested, smart, and innovative tips on living a
writing life in the 21st century. Stephanie holds an MFA in fiction
writing from George Mason University and now directs the Arkansas Writer’s MFA
Workshop at the University of Central Arkansas.
Please welcome Stephanie
Vanderslice
I
originally put the book, Rest:
Why You Get More Done When You Work Less, on my reading list last summer because the title was
so tempting, because I am a victim of the modern culture of “busyness” as much
as anyone else, and because I thought I might find in its pages the secret to
managing my time.
Instead,
what I found more than anything else was a history of artists and the creative
life over the last several centuries, a history with a surprisingly common
thread: walking. Walking, or some kind
of meditative physical activity undertaken without distraction, without trying
to multitask or do anything else but put one foot in front of another.
I was
astonished to learn how important walking had been throughout history, how many
of the world’s great writers and artists have been walkers. Jefferson,
Kierkegaard, C.S. Lewis. Alice Munro, Barbara McClintock (Geneticist), Lin
Manuel Miranda. They all got their best ideas walking.
I am no
stranger to physical exercise. I ride
for miles each week on a stationary bike while staring at my Kindle or reading
a magazine, and I power walk around my neighborhood while listening to podcasts. Anything to keep my mind occupied, because
even though I’ve exercised for 30 years, I still find it pretty boring.
The kind
of exercise advocated in Rest was
different. The kind of physical movement
that inspired the creatives of the past was exercise for its own sake. It was supposed
to be boring. That was the point. As Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard
reveals, “I have walked myself into my best thoughts.”
After
reading Rest, I became so enamored of
walking that I first began scheming to make my commute to the university where
I teach on foot—a 20-minute prospect each way—but the problem of figuring out
what to do with all the stuff I’d need to schlep back and forth persisted. In the end, I decided to start smaller, with
a 45-minute neighborhood stroll after my morning writing sessions. The new
caveat: headphones not allowed. I had to
give my mind as much freedom to roam as my body.
The
results have been impressive. Each walk
has ended with so many writing ideas, especially development ideas for my
novel-in-progress, that I quickly had to start a file called, “walking ideas,”
to keep track of them. Moreover, I am learning
not to pressure myself on these jaunts, telling myself that my mind can go
wherever it wants, even if that means perseverating on what I should have said
at yesterday’s faculty meeting. Still, I
have yet to return home, even on the most stressful of days, without a revelation
about something I was writing.
It’s not
just Rest that’s onto something. Recently at a reading at my university, a
student asked renowned poet Maggie Smith how she generated her ideas. “Put your phone away and take a walk,” she said.
No wonder
the Romantics spent so much time wandering the moors. So, while Rest (the book) has not necessarily
granted me an extra hour a day or helped me maximize my REM sleep, it has changed my creative life. See for yourself—read Rest and give the “daily constitutional” a try.
Connect
with Stephanie on Twitter, Facebook, or at her
website.
Images courtesy S. Vanderslice
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