~The Sound of Silence~
Because I grew up with two older brothers, there was always something going on at our house. From friends stopping by to blasting televisions and stereos, the Bowen house was usually a loud place to be. Did I mention that my mom is Sicilian? Stereotype or not, our family gatherings were just plain boisterous. It was not only the lips moving — we gesticulated with our hands to add an entirely new dimension to conversations. In the midst of all this chaos, I would tune everything out and read.
I never realized how useful this ability would become until I started to write. My household now consists of my husband, our seven-year-old son and myself. Between the dueling televisions, the phone stuck to my husband’s ear and the various assorted ear-piercing, sound emitting toys my son plays with, I often feel transported all the way back across the street to the Bowen house of yesteryear. Once again as I tuned out the world around me, I discovered that I could be interrupted an average of 3.2 minutes without losing my train of thought. I could literally stop mid-sentence, answer a question or retrieve a snack for my son or provide an attentive “Yes, dear” to my husband and fall right back into the story I was working on.
That is, until I found myself midway through writing my novel, “Spur of the Moment.” During a school break, my husband informed me that he was planning to take our son to visit his family in Virginia for a week. I had enough tact to fight the grin threatening to erupt. Do not get me wrong, I am a mom first. As much as I would certainly miss my little man while he was away, the writer in me contemplated the possibilities of absolute quietude nonetheless.
So there I was on my first day of complete silence, comfortably situated in my writer’s chair. Reading over where I left off, for the first time ever, I went completely blank. No train of thought waiting to burst forth, not even a glimmer of one. I read back further hoping to nudge the level of consciousness where my ideas come from only to come up empty.
Being the leap before you look type, my mind touched on the thought that I had hit the brick-wall entitled “writers block.” Dreading the possibility, it made no sense to me until I took a break from my mini-meltdown to turn on the television. Just like that, the next scene of the story played out in my head. The lack of noise in the house was actually blocking the ideas from forming.
With two televisions competing against each other, I came close to finishing “Spur of the Moment” that week. More than that though, I learned a valuable lesson. There is nothing so deafening as the sound of silence.
Candace Bowen Early
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Oh my Gosh, this is so true! I have to have noise when I write, whether it is the t.v., my music, the kids talking. It’s almost as if making myself turn them off is crucial to turning the thoughts and the writing process on.
Great post. Thank you for sharing.
that is really interesting! Yeah, I usually need silence, but I can work either way. I have a four year old, so sometimes she silent and sometimes she’s loud and I’ve learned how to work around both. A good thing, too! So glad you solved your problem!
Thanks, Michelle. Me too! I think any mom learns to tune out on some level. I remember many times as a child having to ask my mom the same thing several times before getting a response. I definitely take after her ~ lol.
Oh, I’m the complete opposite to my utter dismay. When I was growing up, I did everything to noise. School assignments, including writing assignments, were done in front of the television or to blaring music. My preference is to always have, at least, music going in the background. However, when I started writing my novel, I found that I could no longer do that. The lyrics got in the way of my words. I can play some orchestral music, but I even have to be careful with that and can’t turn it up very loud. It’s very… distressing.
I suffer quite badly from tinnitus, so complete silence to me is a terrible thing. I need a certain background level of noise to block out the tinnitus. I find it very strange that I can tune out voices, or the TV, or a neighbour’s noisy lawn-mower, yet I can’t do the same with the high-pitched tones in my own head. Anyone got any theories on *that* one? :-{
That must be very distracting, Cas. I can see why music is such an inspiration by giving you something beautiful to focus on. I really wish I could offer some advice that would help.