ON SOLITUDE-FEB 2010

I seek solitude to write about it- that is, to tell how it shaped the life of one Julie Sheridan, bibliophile, fledgling poet and and aspiring author. Since childhood, she had revelled in the power of words to transport her to realms apart, and longed to acquire the skill to bestow such enchantment on others.

The role of solitude in crafting literature was a source of endless fascination. She imagined a rock-strewn cliff overlooking the ocean, no distraction save the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the whoosh of the rushing wind. She would be leaning against an uprooted tree trunk, notebook perched on upright knees, pen in hand scribbling furiously in this remote setting. Or she fantasized a cabin in rustic surroundings, where she would be inspired by, and perhaps describing, the rhythms of the seasons, the play of light and shadows as they varied from dusk to dawn.

Not to be forgotten was the darker side of the moon of solitude- the intimidation of the blank page before her and despair that it would remain so. The wellspring had run dry; where, oh where her muse? Then she felt that being alone was burdensome, more like solitary confinement, a far cry from the glorious flights of fancy she had envisioned in her youth. So it was that the siren song of solitude, once so seductive, gave way to a less romantic reality.

On silent strolls to contrived destinations, she created her "own private Idaho", the perfect opportunity to clarify stored outpourings of thought and ideas, to develop the seed of stories in-the-making. She often seized on wait-time - in line at the grocer's, in a doctor's office or at a bus stop - to continue to hone her craft. Especially practical was writing while in transit. Hours on a plane or train were ideal, with no commitments to meet, nor guilt about leaving them unfulfilled - just Julie, her ever-present notebook and pen.

In this way, she learned to integrate literary musings into the bustle of daily living. Not for a moment did Julie doubt that time spent alone was basic to creativity. Be it heaven or hell, solitude was, for her, the core of a writing life.

Amen, Julie. I couldn't have said it better myself.