4 Lessons I Learned From “The Queue” That Could Be Applied To Writing

It was an epic pilgrimage

My husband and I had always said that when the Queen died, we would go and see her lying in state. However, as the ten days of mourning progressed estimates of the potential queue length were 20 to 30 hours. With the bout of chronic fatigue that I have suffered this summer, there was no way I could do this.

From Wednesday evening we watched the official Twitter feed for “the queue” as it quickly became known. Initially, the end bobbed about around Blackfriars and London Bridges. Our train into town would take us straight to Blackfriars and then we could join the queue. At 2.4 or 2.8 miles, even in my fatigued state, it felt doable.

But my husband had to work on Thursday. Throughout the day, I saw it lengthen. The starting point moved from Southwark Bridge to Borough Market to Tower Bridge and then Bermondsey Beeches. The length kept increasing – 3.1 miles, 3.4 miles, 4.1 miles. Each time I managed to widen my mental picture of what I thought I could manage.

It was seven thirty in the evening. We had just finished dinner and were preparing to leave our house to catch the train into town when the new start point of the queue was moved to Southwark Park, distance 4.9 miles. I panicked. It was twice the length of earlier that day.

We had a plan B which was to go to Buckingham Palace instead. But deep down, we both wanted to attend the lying-in-state in Westminster Hall.

We arrived in Southwark Park at 10.06pm and joined the queue. It felt like the beginning of a pilgrimage in that you know you are going to be tested, but you also feel that you have to do it. Despite the daunting journey ahead of us, I was smiling and felt joy in my heart.

It took an hour and twenty minutes to reach the actual banks of the River Thames where we were greeted by the beautiful site of Tower Bridge with St Pauls Cathedral perfectly positioned in the background. From then on it was a fantastic walk along the Southbank, one of my favourite parts of London and an area with which I am very familiar.

There was a testing phase either side of Waterloo Bridge from 2am to 5am when the queue hardly moved. We could see Big Ben but we just weren’t moving. At 7am we made it into Victoria Tower Gardens with the legendary zigzags, which you probably saw on the news. It was 10.20am before we cleared security.

When we finally entered the Palace of Westminster and stood at the top of the stairs, I noticed how quickly people were going through. We had stood for 12 hours but this experience was going to last less than a minute. But then I saw soldiers coming down a set of stairs at the other end of the hall and we were blessed as they stopped proceedings for the changing of the guard. This gave us an extra couple of minutes to stand and take in the scene.

And then it was our turn in front of the coffin. I did a Buddhist chant in my heart and thanked Her Majesty for all her years of service. I felt emotional as I typed that last sentence. I don’t know why I am grieving a woman I have never met, but I am.

It was an epic experience which was as much about the 12 hour journey in the queue as it was about the destination. It has struck me that there were parallels to the journey of being a writer. Here are four lessons that I have learned.

1. Stay in the moment

Writing a book can be a daunting proposition. 80,000+ words, several drafts, dealing with editor feedback as well as putting it out into the world and then learning how to sell more copies.

But you don’t have to do all of that at once. You just have to work today on the next sentence, paragraph or page.

In the queue I couldn’t let myself get caught up in the hours remaining. When we were stuck at 5am, if I had known that another five hours lie ahead, I probably wouldn’t have coped. Instead, I just kept walking, at a pace that worked for me. I let those who could walk quicker go ahead and I did my slow plod whenever we were able to move forwards.

I counted down the bridges as milestones but wouldn’t let myself think about the potential time to our destination. Head down, stay in the moment, make another step of progress.

2. Get help when you need it

The three hours in the middle of the night when we barely moved was harder on the body than being in motion. By the time we reached the Albert Embankment, which is across the river from parliament, our backs were really complaining. Even though I had sat down when I could, including just sitting on the ground, my back had lost all flexibility. I started to feel shaky and dreaded something ‘going’ in my back that would render me immobile.

But having stood at that point for over eight hours I didn’t want to give up. My husband had packed some pain-killers so we cracked out the ibuprofen and quickly felt the relief from this. Even though the final zig-zags took another three hours we were able to get through them joyfully. When we felt the effect of the pills wear off, we took some more before heading home.

Writing is hard. You will hit roadblocks. There will be emotional pain at times if not physical. What can you do to give yourself comfort, respite and resilience so that you can continue?

3. Turn your phone off

My phone battery goes down quicker in London and I don’t have a separate charging pack. I took the decision that once we were in the queue, I would turn it off. I warned my mother (who is elderly and is the main reason my mobile is always on) and my friends that we wouldn’t be in contact.

It was SO good to completely disengage from that piece of technology. It helped me to stay in the moment and experience what was happening right in front of me. Nothing else in the world could reach or influence me. I could be fully focussed on the task in hand.

4. Celebrate your victories

Surviving the 12 hour queue was an achievement for everyone who undertook it. As someone who had recently suffered with chronic fatigue it was a huge victory. Not once had I felt “fatigue-tired” and had to push myself through it. My progress was natural and joyful. Given that three months earlier, at the Queen’s Platinum jubilee, I could barely walk for more than 15 minutes it really was a fantastic achievement.

When I finally let myself have a coffee on the train home (having avoided such beverages in the night because of the diuretic effect!) it truly was a cappuccino to savour. As was the lunch we had in a local pub when we made it back.

Writing is hard but it also comes with many milestones. Those milestones might be reaching 20,000 words in a manuscript or the fact that today, you hit your target of 500 words.

Acknowledge your progress. Use it to spur you on further. And every now and then, relish a coffee and some lovely food.

Plodding ever gently

Cali xx

P.S. I wrote more reflections on the Queen’s passing earlier in the week on Medium: Mourning Is Over And A New Era Begins