Walking as Writing
Walking in Terrace, BC, 2019.
I’ve largely quit writing personal pieces.
It’s not for lack of desire. I have been struggling the last year to get much personal writing done. It's not because my work writing volume is too high this year. I can’t give a specific word count right now because while I started the year tracking it, I haven’t kept it up. I know I’m writing less because I let one client go in February, and I have cut back the number of assignments I do per week for my other writing client.
So, I know that I’m writing fewer words for work this year. But I also know I’m writing fewer words for myself this year. My daily journaling habit is really on the fritz right now, I’m only doing that a couple of times a week, and even then, it's just 3-4 lines. That’s sort of normal; I often drop off the daily pages wagon in the summer.
The last time I added a new draft to my “to edit” folder was May 17. That’s exactly 2 months ago, to the day (at the time of writing). The last time I published a post on my blog was May 24. In a typical year, my “to edit” folder tends to be consistently populated with 10-15 different draft articles in various states of neglect.
Now, this is still not a “normal” year by any means. I don’t think we’ll be returning to what we previously knew as normal anytime soon. I’m mostly okay with that, except change is uncomfortable, and I don’t love the part where I have to live in limbo for a long time, unsure of everything.
However, the point of this piece is to talk about something else that I’m also not doing anymore besides writing.
What Else Have I Quit Doing?
I’m not going for walks anymore.
I used to walk my dog every single day. I’m currently lucky enough to live in a location with 4 small lakes, or sloughs if you’re local, to walk around. They’re not amazing lakes, and you wouldn’t want to swim in any of them, but they have beautiful trails around them, lots of trees and bushes, and so many birds.
I used to walk on those paths every day. In the last couple years, I’ve stopped going for walks in these areas. I have myriad excuses:
My mum stopped going on daily walks because she reached 365 days of hitting her steps goal and had plantar fasciitis, so she had to stop.
My sister’s dog is reactive on leash, so when we walk the dogs together, we avoid places with narrow paths where we might meet other dogs.
I’ve been working to detach my self-worth from my fitness level and stopped trying to force myself to meet step goals.
I’m tired a lot.
Winter is cold, and Radar hates wearing winter clothes.
The forest fire smoke is terrible (this week, anyway).
Radar has sprained her foot once or twice this year, necessitating a week or two of rest.
Really, only the forest fire smoke and Radar’s injury are valid excuses for not walking.
I used to go for solitary walks a lot because it's safe enough for me to do that here.
Going for walks doesn’t have to be related to my fitness at all.
Walking is generally energizing for me.
Radar likes going for walks more than she hates winter clothes.
I work from home. I can go for a walk any time of the day that I want. But I don’t.
Walking as Writing
In the 2nd chapter of The Old Ways (my favourite book), Robert Macfarlane discusses the common habit that many famous writers in history have shared. That habit is walking as a crucial part of the writing process.
“I can only meditate when I am walking. When I stop, I cease to think; my mind only works with my legs.” –Jean-Jacque Rousseau
“Employ[ing] his (Wordsworth) legs as an instrument of philosophy.” –Christopher Morley
“Only those thoughts which come from walking have any value.” –Nietzsche
“Perhaps / The truth depends on a walk around a lake.” –Wallace Stevens
I identify strongly with these quotes. Indeed, I walked approximately 2.5 miles today, and this is the first time I’ve written a personal blog post in months. Most of those 2.5 miles were back and forth across a garden behind a rototiller, but it doesn’t matter. Macfarlane reports that Ludwig Wittgenstein (it's ok, I don’t know who he is either) walked back and forth for hours in the office of Bertrand Russell while studying philosophy.
Macfarlane does catch us writers out in that same chapter, acknowledging that while going for a walk can often help our brains work through things we’re writing about, and seem to deliver ideas from the ether, that walking can also be a handy excuse, procrastination technique, or so physically demanding as to become mind-numbing instead of inspiring. Kerri Andrew’s, in a delightful piece called On the Nature Poetics of the Great Nan Shepherd, Bard of the Highlands discusses walking as Nan Shepherd’s escape from as well as catalyst for writing.
In chatting with my friend Kathleen today, the link between my lack of writing and lack of walking finally connected in my mind. It did feel like someone flipped a switch, a lightbulb moment, if you will ( just in case you’re wondering where all my usual cliches are). We also realized we’re missing out on many other things by not going for more walks: like soaking up the nature available to us, the fun of exploring, the mental health benefits of moving, etc. We both agreed we’d try to take more walks in near future.
So basically, what I’m trying to say, is that next time you feel like you have writer’s block, you should go for a walk, even if you can only pace back and forth in your living space.
It is important to keep in mind that walking isn’t accessible to everyone for myriad reasons. This is just one perspective on the writing process. There are countless brilliant writers in the world for whom walking is not an essential part of their writing practice.