Slow Writing by Chris Galvin

Like bread dough, my writing seems to require time to rise in a warm, draft-free place. The long proofing period is necessary; turn up the heat to hurry the rising, or don’t leave it long enough, and I get a stodgy, dense loaf.

Under ideal conditions – solitude, free time and excitement about what I’m writing – the words pour forth quickly. It’s exhilarating. But normally, I write when I can. I like to have control over an essay or story as it forms, and I edit as I write, considering each sentence as I put it to paper – does it say what I want it to say, or does it imply something else? I read what I’ve written aloud – does it have the right rhythm?Is my translation of Vietnamese dialogue as true to the original as possible? Does it sound natural?

The second proofing of the dough is as important as the first. Even when the writing happens quickly, I know from experience that it’s best to put it away overnight before taking another look at it, and then to put it aside again for at least a few days, or better yet, weeks. Sometimes it takes years. My essay Floating Life began as a food and travel vignette about visiting a family in the Mekong Delta. It worked, but it was bland. The recipe was missing something.

Chris bakes muffins too

I kept looking for directions in which the essay might develop. I didn’t find the core of the piece, the defining ingredient, until a few years later when a friend read it and asked me how flooding in the delta affected the farmers. Coincidentally, I was reading about how the delta is one of the areas most adversely affected by sea level change in the world. I realized that this was what I wanted to write about. The words flowed and the essay doubled in length. The anthology that was to publish it, Foreign and Far Away, limited submissions to 1,200 words, but time had given me the distance to recognize that some of my words added nothing and stole space from important details. Rereading my essay with fresh eyes, I was able to see what needed to be added or culled.

Sometimes, the needed words, the mots justes, can be stubborn. They elude me; they won’t be forced out. I need almost as much time away from a piece, not writing it, as I need for writing it. As with a crossword puzzle, I put it away for a while, think of something entirely different, walk by the lake or try out a new recipe, and suddenly, the words come to mind.

When I’m struggling with a piece, wondering if it will ever be ready, I remind myself that the long proofing time that frustrates me so much is often just what my essays need to rise properly, to develop their best texture and to emerge from the oven tempting and toothsome.


Chris Galvin divides her time between Quebec and Việt Nam. She writes mostly about food, travel and nature, and sometimes pens short fiction. Her writing and photography have appeared in various anthologies and literary journals, including DescantPRISM InternationalAsian ChaThe Winnipeg Review, and others. She has written in Vietnamese and English for several Vietnamese publications. Chris is currently working on a collection of essays about living in Việt Nam.

151 thoughts on “Slow Writing by Chris Galvin

  1. Beautifully written.
    I almost feel like I just attended a support group for writers — you so perfectly described the process and pains that often accompany the craft.
    Thank you for sharing your work, and more importantly, a glimpse into the mind of a writer.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I am thinker and a quiet writer. Interruption boggles my thoughts and wrecks my flow. Excited or not. I am learning to block out noise and chatter. Learning to use it as white noise. I am also an edit as I write writer. I love to be relatable and funny with whatever I am writing.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. I love this post. I’ve been working on a few different novels the past few years. I’ve gotten discouraged several times because I just want to hurry up and finish SOMETHING, but there is a part of me that knows that I should take my time, relish the creative process, and really focus on the words that I am putting on paper. I know that these are just drafts, but I want some scenes to contain a magic that I will only need to slightly fine tune later on.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Chris, thank you for writing this beautiful piece. I’m new to the writing arena and I’m struggling to find my balance with writing and how to incorporate my other responsibilities. This piece has given me an insight on what I need to do next – thank you.

    Bravo!

    Liked by 2 people

  5. You make slow writing seem almost narcotic. It certainly is more deliberative and patient than what I have been doing my entire writing life. You encourage me to slow down and learn how to actually put a piece in a drawer for more than 5 minutes. I am, I think, addicted to immediate. Time to contemplate a new habit. Thank you for this beautiful description of your writing methods.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Perhaps the act of slow editing gives us greater confidence. I find that when I’ve spoken in haste, I feel like I’ve said something I’ll regret. Similarly, leaving our writing to “simmer” for a day or two before we edit it with fresh ears and eyes increases the confidence in the quality of the work. That said, there comes a point where we might be happier accepting its imperfections too and let it go. A publisher friend of mind told me that the industry accepts there will always be errors on books. They work to the deadline, make it as good as possible in that deadline — but ultimately, get it out there sooner rather than losing the moment.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. “Solitude, free time and excitement about what I’m writing” – those are the very same factors that help me write better. 🙂 Great post! I could relate to it, in a lot of ways.
    Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed!

    Liked by 2 people

  8. Chris, I understand what you mean, when you talk about “spending more time away from my writing as I do writing it.” I have to go away from my writing fir a while, and then return to it, with a fresh oair of eyes.

    Liked by 2 people

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