What Writers Really Do: Beyond the Page
When I finished my MFA program, I thought it would open up a whole lot of energy for more writing, not less.
I haven’t been writing much lately.
If you’re a writer, you know that feeling: the awkward pause when someone asks what you’re working on, or how your book is coming along. The creeping doubt. The imposter syndrome. The nagging whisper — Real writers write — as if hammering out words on a keyboard is the only thing that matters.
But here’s the truth I’ve learned to hold gently: writers do many things that don’t look like writing — and they still count.
Writers read. Widely, curiously, sometimes obsessively. We underline sentences, dog-ear pages, and fall in love with language all over again. After our first residency, when we asked our mentors in the MFA program how we should spend our summer break, they all said the same thing: read. Read in your genre, or not. Read in print, or listen. Read the whole book, or just enough to get the gist. Read your comps, your idols, your favourite trashy summer beach books. I always have multiple books on the go, both in audio and print, and lately I’ve been giving myself permission to read novels just for fun. (I’m also getting through a pile of recommended books a mile high, but that’s a given).
Writers notice. We watch people, tune in to dialogue, eavesdrop on people in line at the grocery store. We let life simmer, gathering textures and turns of phrase. One of my favourite notebooks (because, let’s be honest, what writer doesn’t have a soft spot for notebooks?) is a tiny, hot-pink moleskin that I carry in my purse, ready to capture ideas on the run.
Writers do field work. We go to museums, wander through cemeteries, take pictures of rubble where a house used to stand. We interview experts, gather evidence. We spend hours in the archives, hoping to find that one sentence or artifact that will break open our story. We experiment with new foods, activities, languages. We explore.
Writers learn. I’m fresh out of a writing degree, and I’m still signing up for webinars, attending writing conferences, and reading books on writing craft. I’m lucky enough to be in a great writing group, and I look forward to meeting with them every week to workshop my own material and provide feedback to others.
Writers think. We mull and meander, often for weeks or months before a single sentence appears. I spent a lot of time staring out the window when I was writing The Heart of Homestay, and it was never a waste of time.
Writers rest. Especially after finishing a big project, the quiet is not absence — it’s integration. After an intense two years completing an MFA, launching a new business, writing a book, and putting it out in the world, I’m ready for a break. I need some time without deadlines or pressure.
Writers live. We parent, garden, pay the bills, travel, celebrate, launch new careers, and get distracted. These experiences are not detours from writing; they are its raw material.
So no, I’m not writing much these days.
But I am storing up stories.
I am staying open.
I am still a writer.
Pictured : me and my friend Morag at our graduation from the Master of Fine Arts in creative nonfiction program at the University of King's College (Dalhousie) in Halifax.
