spectraspecs-writes:

The Empty Room

“Have you ever been in a completely empty room?” I ask my mother.

I came home today, later than normal for a Wednesday. I had a staff meeting that was held two and a half hours after my last class let out. So I brought my keyboard and my story copy and decided, what the hell I’ll type a little.

When I get into a story writing mood, when I get into a vibe, I feel something change. I suddenly feel very small and not so aware of things around me. Aware enough as a woman of course, but not entirely aware. Aware enough that I can move my things if someone is trying to get by. Aware enough if someone asks me a question. Aware enough that I sometimes catch bits of conversation. But not really aware.

“I usually feel this way on the third or fourth floor of [my college’s administration building]”, I say to her, “Waiting for the elevator. The way it’s structured is, there’s the main hallway, then just past the stairs there’s this little jetty, and then at the end of the jetty there’s another tiny hallway, and that’s where the elevator is. There usually isn’t anybody waiting for the elevator on the third or fourth floor. There’s not a lot of classes there anymore.”

When I get into a writing vibe - usually happens when I’m typing my copy, but it can easily happen when I’m free-writing, or writing the copy - I feel something change. I feel like I’m in a completely empty room.

“There’s an empty room in my heart,” I said to Mom, “When I’m in this room, I feel very aware of my characters and scenes. I feel very close to them, like I know what they’re feeling, like I almost feel what they’re feeling.”

And I feel that way, too, when I’m waiting for the elevator on the third or fourth floor.

When I get into a writing vibe, I enter a perpetual liminal space. I become increasingly aware of everything emotional that happens there. And I feel very small. But that’s okay. Because my characters are usually there with me. When I’m done writing for the day, they leave the room, but I don’t necessarily leave the room. Which leaves me feeling unsettlingly introspective. Nothing emotional is going on in the room, so there’s nothing to be aware of, so I feel like I’m feeling nothing. Which is kind of scary and disturbing. I feel like I need to cry but there’s nothing to cry about.

I was able to pause the liminal space for the staff meeting, and possibly while driving home, but while eating dinner, I was still in the empty room. And I felt very detached from everything. Like I am when I’m in a writing vibe. But since there was nobody in the Room with me, I was left looking inward.

I enjoy my time in the Empty Room. Having the room makes my stories more emotional. Everyone in the room becomes aware, very much aware, of what they’re feeling. But I do not like to be alone in the Empty Room. Because then things become frighteningly real. And yet not real at all.

Free sentence!

“he watched as the sands slowly poured from the top of the hourglass, counting the seconds in silent monotony.”