Christina Wells’ WritingSpace

I like Mary Oliver’s gentle prodding in her book, “A Poetry Handbook.” She writes about the need to attend to that part of our psyche that works in tandem with consciousness to provide the mysterious elements when writing poems. We have to cajole it, sweet-talk it, make it feel safe, so that hopefully, it’ll show up for us each time we sit down to write. She writes that if you routinely show up in your space, “If you are reliably there, it begins to show itself – soon it begins to arrive when you do.” I guess I’m not great at taming my psyche. I offer out a hand, then quickly withdraw. Gotcha! We’re going somewhere new today! Switching up my spaces has put that part of myself in a spin. My bones ache for the kind of soothing work routine Oliver writes about. I would love to feel settled. To know and be known by a routine and space. 

I’m keenly aware that having any space in these days of global unrest and housing crisis is a privilege. I have a house. I have options. So why am I so unsettled? 

I have three children, a partner, and a dog — and yes, that means my life is pretty full and noisy, but I don’t think that’s why I’m unsettled. I think there might be something in my DNA that needs some kindness and calming. It’s like I never learned how to take up the space I needed. When I was a teenager, I tried to say the beach behind my parent’s place was my space, but I just liked the way that sounded. I never took up that space or settled into it. Thank goodness I’m now surrounded by my wonderful family who have endless patience for me and this creative process. We’re all trying to support one another. Without them, it would be very quiet, but I’d also be a quivering, anxious puddle somewhere.

My husband uses the office in our house as his main place of work. If free, that space would be my writing space. I manage to get in there when he’s away or when he doesn’t need it for some reason. Sometimes he takes a work meeting down into the dining room so I can have some time in there. We’re always trying to share the spaces well. I love the office because of the beautiful lamp light in there and the fir desk. I love that my ideas and schedules are posted all over the walls for me to quickly glance at when inspiration is needed. 

I tried renting an art space in downtown St. John’s for a little while, but I couldn’t keep that up, money-wise, and I didn’t get down there enough either. I had to let that one go. 

I could never get into writing at coffee shops. I’m an ear plugs in the ears kind of writer – I need silence and I need to feel alright with reading my work out loud, with feeling. So no. Coffee shops just didn’t cut it. 

I’m currently in the English MA program at MUN completing a creative thesis — a poetry manuscript. This has opened up writing options for me. Sometimes I write on the third floor of the Arts Building, surrounded by musty old books. I also took to writing at the back of the MUN library for a while. The floors are tiered and you can look out onto University Avenue through huge panes of glass. No one is allowed to talk back there and the natural lighting is soothing (fluorescent lights are from the underworld). 

And now, after a year on the waitlist, I have access to a personal graduate office at the library. It’s small, but it’s a space where I can show up, shut the door, wait, think, and write. Perhaps if I visit enough, that mysterious part of my psyche will show itself. I have to keep trying, for as Oliver wrote, that part of me “won’t involve itself with anything less than a perfect seriousness.”

I’m thankful for this new space. It’s where I’m writing this blog post now. It’s most likely where I’ll write my next poem.