I learned recently that the only way you can really write is if you are in a place that you can write. Some people are comfortable writing on trains, in coffee shops, or other public places. Some people need a nice quiet office at their house where they can perform some kind of specific ritual to get into their headspace. (I’m looking at you, McGee of the TV series NCIS.) And most people fit somewhere in the middle. You should find your own comfortable space for writing. This space includes your environment. If you find yourself extremely stressed out, there’s a chance that you are not going to bring your best words to the page. Or, any words, for that matter.
So, why am I bringing this up? Because I dropped off the planet for about a year because I moved to a place that was not comfortable for me. I hoped that moving to the mid-Hudson Valley area of New York would be a good change for me. Unfortunately, it led to stress, strain, and an unhealthy way. This caused the ever dreaded Writer’s Block, and I started prioritizing. Between three-hour daily train rides, high levels of stress, anxiety, and even depression.
So, the lesson here is to work where you’re comfortable
What makes me comfortable?
That is a difficult question to answer succinctly. Sometimes I can write in a car, on a train, on a plane (though the smaller the seats get the harder that becomes), in a coffee shop, or other public places. but those tend to be the exceptions, not the rule. Where I find I write the best is actually in my living room, with my family. It is almost as though I can feed off their energy to entice the words and ideas to flow. I also can turn a few pages in my office, where I can read sections out loud and not get funny looks from the kids (“Kaze, are you talking to yourself again,” is a very common question around my house).
When I do write, I don’t have a ritual that has worked for me. I know, that’s kind of anticlimactic for this section, but it’s true. I use ritual for many other things around my life, from my religious practices to doing dishes to troubleshooting computer issues. But just not for writing. There’s no real method I have found that consistently works to get my mind into word slinging mode where the prose just flows like a river. Usually, it’s either pouring like Niagara Falls or dried up like Death Valley in late August with no rhyme or reason as near as I can tell. But, I find that more periods like Niagara Falls occur when my overall stress levels are significantly reduced.
This is not to say that I don’t believe in the use of rituals to achieve that inner state of authorial enlightenment. In fact, I believe in them a lot. I just haven’t found or created one that works for me. Yet.
Ultimately, I hope that you, my dear readers, take away that you have to have a place you are comfortable to write and, if it works for you, use a ritual to engage your inner muse.
