On your own, but not alone: Riding the solo wave
Allowing ourselves periods of quality alone time doesn't just help fuel our creativity, it's practically essential for it
In the final episode of And Just Like That, a key character presented an idea hoped to resonate with viewers profoundly: the concept of not being alone, but simply on your own. But although it’s presented to us as something novel, it’s not a new idea - in fact, Sex And The City covered this same thing in Season 2, Episode 4: La Douleur Exquise, when Carrie took herself out to a restaurant to dine alone, to face her fear of flying solo. (Let’s not talk about how AJLT seems to have forgotten that on top of its seriously bad habit of forgetting a lot more, from entire character personalities and histories to killing off one character’s dad twice…) How has Carrie not already learned this, after almost two decades? Then again, her only experience with therapy was the failed attempt later in Season Two, so maybe that’s why. Carrie, girl, please go heal your inner child so you stop repeating the same cycles. It’s even more mystifying when you consider that Carrie is a writer. Fair enough, in that context, she’s talking about being alone in relationships - but if you ask most writers, or creatives in general, we’re not only pretty comfortable with the idea of spending a good bit of time alone, we crave it. We need it. Our art suffers without it.
Maybe it’s because I’ve always been fiercely independent - partially nature, partially nurture - but I don’t see what the big fuss is about doing things solo. I mean, on some level I get it: socially, it’s often seen as weird. But the sensation of people staring at you and judging you for not conforming to their idea of what is normal is no different if you, say, dress differently from the mainstream. I do agree that there are certain activities that are just nicer to do with other people - and I firmly agree that one of the best parts of life is sharing things people you love, and who love you. Yet some of the activities perceived as odd if you do them alone? I don’t get it. Going to the cinema alone, for example: you’re sat alone in a dark room to see a film, not talk. What is the big deal about going to the movies alone? Why is it often considered strange to do so?
I acknowledge, with great sadness, that loneliness is a real problem in this day and age (just ask Simone Heng, the human connection expert who wrote a book on it! I interviewed her, by the way - you can read it here.) But loneliness is not the same thing as physically being alone - not at all. You could be surrounded by people and still feel very alone, if you feel that none of them really know or understand you, or genuinely care about you, for instance. You could be in a relationship and feel incredibly alone, if you don’t feel supported or if the partnership lacks intimacy.
And social media has not only proven that it’s possible to have millions of followers and still feel alone, it can also make you feel more lonely, to the point that some people have nicknamed it ‘antisocial media’, saying excessive use of it can fundamentally dismantle prosocial behavior, because overuse can displace authentic relationships, for one. The echo chambers its curated nature can create are another kettle of fish entirely. I think like most things, it has pros and cons depending on how you use it. But the bottom line is: being someone with many social connections doesn’t mean you won’t feel lonely, any more than spending a good bit of time alone doesn’t mean you’ll be lonely either. Being alone and feeling lonely are simply two different things.
The rising trend for solo travel indicates that more people are realizing this. I love holidaying with friends as much as I enjoy solo travel. With the former, you create treasured memories, it’s a ton of fun, and some experiences are just better shared. With the latter, you can set your own pace, choose your itinerary freely and flexibly, and if forces you to not run away from yourself, and get comfortable with that. Each has its own merits. But that self-discovery aspect is a huge part of why spending time in solitude every now and then is so incredibly important for creatives.
Spending bouts of quality time in solitude has been proven to be good for well-being in various ways, but for creatives (be that writers, artists, or musicians for instance), it’s essential. It allows us the time and space to process our emotions and knowledge, which allows our ideas to flow with less outside influence and more originality and deeper focus. It’s where you can nurture the thoughts running around your mind, and give them room to wander freely. It’s planting something in an actual garden rather than a pot, so that when its roots are ready to grow bigger, they have the space to do so, rather than having to curl up and stutter in a confined space. It’s seeing how loud and powerful your voice can actually be when you sing alone, without fear of scorn or judgment if someone else is listening. It’s letting a domesticated horse out of a stable and seeing just how fast it can actually go when you let it run wild.
Funnily enough, back when I used to do amateur boxing, I’d do something similar before fights: I couldn’t talk to anyone I knew the night before, or a day before. I didn’t want to, because Yi-Hwa doesn’t want to punch people and couldn’t bring herself to do that - but the primal, feral version of her could. And being around my tribe kept me more tethered to my identity, my construction of self. I needed to let go of her, just for a little while, to become something else in that boxing ring - just like how I sometimes need to disappear out of my own head to enter my characters’ heads. It’s easier to slip out of your everyday, and into the world, narrative, or character you’re creating when you’re not constantly being reminded of who you are. (This is also why it can be dangerous to spend too much time alone, lest you forget yourself completely, but life is a balance - periods of quality solitude ≠ absolute hermiting!)
Each time I take a writing trip, travel somewhere solo, give myself a weekend off social media, or temporarily disappear to answer the call of my creativity, that’s what I do. It’s not easy when you have a full-time job - it’s actually one of the things that makes it the hardest, to be a creative who can’t chase the butterfly when it floats past. It can feel like torture to ignore it, and keep your head down as you prioritize what pays your bills, or the basic needs of survival, when all you want to do is heed its call. But when you can chase it? And the stars align for you to have even a little room to give in to its siren song? You answer, and you answer as wholly as you can.
Nature also moves in cycles: the shift from day to night, the changing of seasons, the patterns of feast and famine. Creativity, too, isn’t linear - it ebbs and flows like the sea. And when you feel a wave building, you paddle out to catch it, and ride it until you hit the shore. Like surfing, it means surrendering to a force that feels larger than yourself. It’s not always predictable, and you’ll never have absolute control over it. At times, you’ll wipe out, maybe even find yourself caught in a rip current. Other times, you’ll become one with the swell, and try to shred it as you let the momentum of your inspiration propel you forward. Sometimes, the feeling of wanting to chase all of the creativity inside of you against the drudgery of everyday life can feel like torture - like it’s drowning you from the inside out. But even surfers can’t live on the ocean all the time (as much as many would like to) - and as the saying goes, we can’t stop the waves, but we can learn to surf. For creatives, taking these bouts of solitude is one way there.
