Dolce far niente

the sweetness of doing nothing

Was it the prolific Shakespeare or philosopher Bertrand Russell who once said that intervals of idleness are essential to creativity? Either way, both were no slouches in the output department so they must have been onto something.

Perhaps no one does idleness better than the Italians. Whether relishing a lazy lunch under a trellis of grape leaves, lingering over melting gelato at dusk, or savoring soft kisses as the moon rises over a piazza, they have perfected dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing.

I am currently staying in the Italian countryside at a family friend’s home. After spending the past few weeks in bustling London, it’s been a shift to dial back my speed to 5 miles per hour. There are workmen here doing renovations and I’ve been enjoying watching them smoke cigarettes and gossip, taking their sweet time laying down ceramic tiles. Somehow the job still gets done, even if they are not in a rush to do it.

When facing a deadline, instead of stressing out and speeding up, I tend to slow down. Like the aforementioned Italian workmen, the job gets done nonetheless. I discovered this trick a number of years ago while writing the pilot and series bible for a French television series on a tight schedule. I had to hit 50,000 words plus a script within two and a half months. I was staying in London during the job. Instead of waking up and meeting my daily word count straight away, I’d walk across Hyde Park to my favorite yoga studio, take a yin yoga class—a passive style of yoga, where seated or reclined poses, often with props are held for 3-10 minutes—and walk back through the park before sitting down at the computer. All of this took about 3 hours, which I previously would have thought of as an insane amount of time to be away from work. But when I finally arrived in front of my laptop I was so relaxed, so dropped into the flow, that my fingers flew across the keyboard until I found I’d completed my goal for the day in half the time.

Recently, I’ve taken idleness to a new level as an approach to a bout of writers block, or rather, a need to pause and process before proceeding. I am deep into a new book, a hard pivot from anything I’ve ever written. It’s been quite the rollercoaster ride of emotions and research. I hit a wall about four weeks ago, when every time I looked at the screen I had a visceral reaction. My hips and jaw tensed up in pain, I became angry, grief stricken. All of which stopped my flow. I am generally a diligent worker bee and tend to beat myself up when I don’t stick to schedule. At lunch in Los Angeles with Susan Orlean last month, she suggested I take the pressure off and put the book down as I embark on my current research trips to London, Poland and New York. My side quest to the Tuscan countryside has been the perfect reminder to slow down and savor the present moment. Sometimes all you need is to lay on a patch of grass, sand or a rock, and stare up at the sky as clouds roll by to have a flash of inspiration.

Yesterday I said I was going to the beach for a quick swim, and found myself, hours later, staring into the horizon watching butterflies dance on the wind, listening to the waves lap the shore while the sun blazed down on me, thinking of…nothing. And how sweet it was.

Here’s to surrendering to a slower pace and tapping back into the flow.

xxLiz