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A Vacation to the Mundane
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John Caruso
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Jun 21, 2005 14:41 PDT
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“A Vacation to the Mundane”
I just returned from vacation. It was the first “real” vacation my wife
and I have taken in 11 years. Sure, there we’ve had long weekends and
short road trips, but this was the first time in we’ve taken over a week
away from home and responsibility in more than a decade (and, yes, it
does sound a bit depressing when I put it that way). The reason I bring
this up—other than the fact that we had such a wonderful time and have
vowed to go on trips more often than an average bottle of scotch is
aged—is that spending time away from home helped me to see how important
the mundane is to our writing.
When we write, we write about characters, places, and events. These
exist in a world we create, and in order to create a believable world,
we need to dress it with the mundane. Our characters need to interact
with others. Our settings need to feel real and authentic. And how can a
story-changing event seem huge without those small, every day events to
give it perspective? Or, to put it another way, a vacation doesn’t exist
without a life from which to vacate.
While we were away, I lived several of those
wow-things-are-just-a-bit-different-when-you-go-somewhere-else
occurrences, such as seeing different brands of potato chips or the way
grouper is a much more popular fish in Florida than it is “up north.”
What is interesting about such differences is that these details are
precisely what give our writing authenticity. Of course I’m not saying
that in order to write about someone/something/somewhere we need to live
it directly (a feat made particularly difficult when we write about
lunar outposts), but having an experience, no matter how fleeting or
seemingly insignificant, with a place or a personality type will season
our writing. Having experienced a red tide was valuable, but if I had
simply learned about a red tide I still would be able to incorporate it
into a story.
Of course the bookend observation of vacations is how, upon returning
home, you feel the hiccup in your frame-to-frame daily routine. The
familiar has been skewed just a bit with your distance. That local
construction project has fast-forwarded. Grass continued to grow but you
weren’t around to see it. A new mailman began working your street and
the neighbors already know him. You begin to study the people walking
around your neighborhood and it hits you that their lives have been
going on while you’ve…well…taken a vacation from your life. “That’s all
well and good,” I can hear you grumbling, “but what does that have to do
with writing?” A lot. If we don’t take time to notice the mundane, we
lose so much of the depth of experience we need to tap into as writers.
One of the best ways to notice the mundane is to get away from it. I
realize that taking a vacation is not always practical for us (it took
me 11 years, for cryin’ out loud), but we all have the ability to step
back, close our eyes, take a breath, then open up and look at our world
in a fresh way.
We can also notice the mundane by immersing ourselves deeper in it. Sit
on your porch, or in the park where you walk your dog every day, or on
the street corner outside your favorite writing café. Take in the
sights, the sounds, the smells. Notice every little thing. Soak it all
up. How often does a train go by? Are the crickets louder to your left
or to your right? Where do you stop smelling the pizza place and begin
to smell the false spring of laundromat drier sheets?
Whether you’ve been away or been immersed, pull out your notebook and
write what you’ve observed. Engage your writer’s instincts. Get your
hand moving across the page. Write.
And if you ever get the chance, take a few moments out of your life to
watch and listen to pelicans flying over your head. You won’t regret it.
John Caruso
caruso-@gmail.com
Copyright 2005, John Caruso
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