Much is made of scribbling on the back of an envelope. The idea of being overcome by the muse, the urge to write being so intense that fripperies like notebooks or pens are irrelevant is captivating. I have, on occasion, scrabbled for backs of receipts, serviettes, bus tickets (that was a very short poem) and I agree the immediacy is exciting, it makes me feel like a poet all wafty sleeves and drama. Is the the place where the true writing comes from? Or is there a role for ritual, for measure, for management?
Tania Hershman’s Delightful “Highly irregular newsletter” dropped in to my inbox this week. It’s full of exciting projects and insight, but one tiny detail stood out to me. Tania describes her process of preparation for a new project – it begins with a gathering.
“The first thing I do is buy a new notebook. And this time, I also bought a new pen in a colour I’d never used before: turquoise. I do this because it gives me a sense of ritual or ceremony. The beginning of something is very exciting, as well as fairly daunting (especially when someone else is giving you money.)
What I also do, as you can see in the picture, is put a new project’s “stuff” in a new shoebox… Just because those of us who are writers work in words, doesn’t mean we can’t also have tangible items, things we can feel, things that delight the eye”
Creating a ritual, gathering tools gives reality to a project and as Tania points out, writers live in a world where their tools are intangible and ever changing. A box of “stuff” creates a place for thought and action.
A writing ritual is powerful
Andrea Morris describes the powerful impact of a writing ritual
Creative flow is the experience of being completely immersed, present, focused and in the zone. The inner critic and mental chatter are quieted, novel ideas are born and random associations collide
Being completely immersed in writing, painting, sculpting or any other creative activity can be a luxury. Demands on time from pets to parents, deadlines to dinner shopping can suck at our creativity, demoralise and distract us. A writing ritual can help protect this time, and allow our minds the freedom to let go of distraction.
What does a writing ritual look like?
Much is made of the routines held by famous writers. In this interview from The Paris Review, Haruki Murakami describes the routine he adopts to create his mesmerising novels.
When I’m in writing mode for a novel, I get up at four a.m. and work for five to six hours. In the afternoon, I run for ten kilometers or swim for fifteen hundred meters (or do both), then I read a bit and listen to some music. I go to bed at nine p.m. I keep to this routine every day without variation. The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind. But to hold to such repetition for so long—six months to a year—requires a good amount of mental and physical strength. In that sense, writing a long novel is like survival training. Physical strength is as necessary as artistic sensitivity.”
I find the attention to physical strength interesting. It’s something that’s rarely considered, logic says a healthy body is important to the kind of sustained writing Murakami describes. The image of the writer as indulgent, opium soaked flouncy sleeved dandy pervades. The reality is that writing is hard on both brain and body and taking care of physical health is an essential part of a writing routine.
Toni Morrison, also in The Paris Review describes something more like my own writing ritual
I, at first, thought I didn't have a ritual, but then I remembered that I always get up and make a cup of coffee and watch the light come. And she said, Well, that's a ritual. And I realized that for me this ritual comprises my preparation to enter a space I can only call nonsecular... Writers all devise ways to approach that place where they expect to make the contact, where they become the conduit, or where they engage in this mysterious process. For me, light is the signal in the transaction. It's not being in the light, it's being there before it arrives. It enables me, in some sense.
My best time to write is early in the morning. Part of this is because it’s before the exhaustion of M.E. kicks in – but another part, the part that magnifies creativity is about feeling that sense of solitude. Writing before the light, before the day takes hold of itself – that gives me freedom to think and allows me to draw on the sense of magic and hope that sits before the dawn.
The Habit Loop
The dedication displayed by Murakami, is not for everyone. What if you want to write but don’t feel able to give up your social life, or can’t afford to abandon chunks of time? Can you still write?
Habits are actions that are triggered by cues, such as a time of day, an activity, or a location. They culminate in a feel-good reward that, through repetition, fuses the connection between cue and reward firmly in the brain. The Habit Loop offers a useful way to think about ritual, and the value of developing healthy habits in each aspect of life.
How does a writing routine work in practice?
Employ environmental triggers – I keep a poetry book near the kettle so I can read whilst I’m making my first ( and even second) coffee of the day.
Banish “all or nothing” thinking – I’ll never be Murakami. I’ll never be Toni Morrison. Does that mean I shouldn’t write? I’m not well enough to write every day – does that mean I shouldn’t write? Of course not. If I shift focus to what is possible and desirable for me, then creating a healthy writing habit will become more natural and enjoyable.
Use ritual to create value around your work
This is one of the most important aspects. Whatever ritual I chose, be it using a particular pen, or sitting in a special chair, i create a sense of value and importance. I am saying to myself “what I am doing is valuable”.
A cracking example of this, and the reason for my exploring this idea happened for me just last week. I have recently started a side project, creating poems built around the language of flowers. They are destined for Etsy, for local gift shops and florists and are definitely less intense than my usual work. I felt a little odd about it. As though they weren’t what a proper poet should be doing and kept them separate from my proper poetry. The poems weren’t great. And a realisation came – these are as valid as any other part of my work – I diligently copied the poems into my current notebook, using my favourite pen, and my favourite ink. I redrafted, and gave the same attention as I do to anything else. And the poems are work I am pleased with. They are different but no less valuable and deserve to be treated well.
And this I think is the crux of creating a writing ritual, adopting a set of writing habits. It’s a way of saying what I do is worth the time I spend, what I do is valuable. If nothing else, it’s a reason to buy a beautiful notebook and ink that goes by the name of Monboddos Hat.
I’ll leave you with one of my favourite writer’s rituals which is this wonderful advice from Sharon Olds
“speak nicely to yourself when you’re alone. Kiss your wrist once a day”
you can hear the whole of Rachel Zucker’s interview with Sharon Olds here. I highly recommend it.