So frequently we read or hear a writing coach or teacher's piece address how rituals can entice the muse. Most of this advice recommends we go to the same place and start with a personal ritual. Maybe light a candle. Or ring a small bell. Or wear the same shirt every time. Listen to music. Don’t listen to music. Particularly when I became stuck, I tried all the suggestions. When one appeared to work, the next day it didn't.
Some writers go to the exact same place to write, claiming they can't be creative anywhere else, whether that be a lonely cabin in the woods or sitting at a table in the middle of a busy cafe. I have written in my studio. My home office. My kitchen, sitting in front of the fire with my laptop propped on my knees. And more in the last few years, at 26,000 feet, alone in the small, cozy cabin of our plane. Out of reach. Out of communication. No internet. Out of a pressing, heavy schedule. No distractions. Nothing but the hum of the engine, or an occasional kiss on my hand from my dog, requesting me to scratch his back. I am easily distracted, at least until I get deeply involved with what I am writing at the time.
But I think for the most part, the creative flow emanates from a certain state of mind, wherever the writer is or under many different circumstances. At least for me. It either erupts or it doesn’t. Maybe the muse will become an easier and more frequent visitor as I become a more veteran writer.
It is fascinating to see other writer's working areas. Below are some of the many photos I found of the different environments for writers' spaces.
My writing space at 26,000 feet. My writing studio overlooking Penobscot Bay.
Virginia Woolf's sparse and neat writing space William Buckley's cluttered working space.
Jack London works on a good looking rock William Faulkner works on a balcony
Will Self with sticky notes covering his walls compared to Jane Austin's small writing table, one page at a time.