Your Lack of a Writing Ritual Isn't the Problem
Your Lack of a Writing Ritual Isn't the Problem
What You Need is a Foundational Practice (Weekly Writing Boost #10)
Ah yes the writing ritual. A writing ritual is a way to ease yourself into your writing session and all the best authors have them. Isabel Allende lights a candle, surrounds herself with flowers and incense, and then meditates for a bit before plunging in. Haruki Murakami rises at 4 AM, writes for five or six hours, then goes for a long run in the afternoon and goes to bed early. Colette picked fleas off her bulldog until she felt ready to write. Maya Angelou rented a hotel room, had the staff take everything down from the walls, then lay cross-wise on the bed and wrote from early morning to noon. After which she went home to recover.
Me? When it comes to writing rituals, I got nothing. I’ve toyed with lighting a special candle, burning incense, rubbing crystals, reading poetry. But I hate the smell of most incense and I’m lousy at grasping poetry. I like crystals and candles but I can’t say they’ve ever helped my writing in any way.
However, what I do have is a foundational writing practice. This is a habit that supports my writing. I propose to you that a foundational habit that gets you to the page is what you really need, not crystals and incense. (Though I will admit to loving me some good woo.) And, honestly, it’s exactly what those famous writers I mentioned above have, too. They may call them rituals, because doesn’t that sound more exciting? But what they really are is a foundational practice.
I’ll share with you my foundational practice and then help you figure out one for yourself, because what works for me may be the opposite of what works for you. Figuring out a helpful practice is this week’s writing boost.
My Foundational Writing Practices
Actually, it occurs to me I have two. Here they are:
—Morning pages. Okay, morning pages-ish, because I follow the spirit but not the letter of them. In case you don’t know about morning pages, they were invented by Julia Cameron and basically they entail writing three pages longhand, first thing in the morning. They are not pretty, nor are they meant to be. They are stream-of-consciousness on paper and they work wonders to get the crap out and get you tuned up for your writing. As Julia explains here:
“Morning Pages are three pages of longhand, stream of consciousness writing,
done first thing in the morning. *There is no wrong way to do Morning Pages*–
they are not high art. They are not even “writing.” They are about
anything and everything that crosses your mind– and they are for your eyes
only. Morning Pages provoke, clarify, comfort, cajole, prioritize and
synchronize the day at hand. Do not over-think Morning Pages: just put
three pages of anything on the page...and then do three more pages tomorrow.”
(And I’ve written about my own morning pages habit here.)
Every morning I get up, grab my coffee and head to my desk. Many mornings I do morning pages. But some mornings I write in a more directed manner. Some days there are personal issues I want to work out. And some days I have a thorny writing problem to untangle. The common denominator is the early morning hour, those first minutes when you’re slowly waking up before the wild ways of the world and all your worries have taken hold of your brain. It’s my best, freest, most creative writing time and the days I don’t do it, I feel different all day.
And most days, after I’ve journaled, I write a selection of what I call mantras. You might call them affirmations. I think of them as my guideposts for the direction I’m currently taking—or more to the point, hoping to take. I basically write the same ones every day. It may sound tedious and sometimes it is, but more often it is strangely soothing and I look forward to it.
My second practice falls along the other end of the spectrum. Instead of writing alone at my desk early in the morning, I spend time twice a week writing in community. These take the form of:
—Zoom write-alongs. Every Monday and Thursday afternoon, I host a zoom writing session. We gather, chat about writing (and other things) a bit, then turn off our cameras and mute ourselves. At the top of the hour, we come back on for a few minutes to check in, then go back to it for another hour. I’m writing this post during one such zoom, in the company of eight other writers. It’s an oddly productive ritual. There’s something about knowing there are other writers out there working away makes me work harder.
Plus, this is a commitment I’ve made to the other writers who show up and myself as well. Sometimes other appointments get in the way and I need to leave early or miss a session. But I do my utmost best to uphold this commitment and show up. And that makes it a foundational practice.
You can join us! (It’s free.) Respond to this email if you’re getting it in your inbox and tell me you’re interested. Or leave a comment. All I need is your email to send you the link.
The Boost: Creating your own foundational practice
Okay, it’s not so much about creating a practice, as figuring one out. You may hate the idea of rising early, so let me point out that I do so naturally. I wake between five and five-thirty with no alarm to tell me to get out of bed. If that were not the case, this might not be my most productive time, as this article points out. And you may detest the idea of writing in community. It’s all good. Whatever works for you. But I urge you to find some kind of practice to support your work. Pay attention to your peak creative times, and see if you can figure out how they happened.
Here are some suggestions for practices that may serve you:
—Meditation..
—Taking a walk before you write (but not too far—save time for the work)
—Experiment to find your brain’s most creative time. Mine is definitely first thing in the morning, but yours might be late at night. (This quiz might help.)
—A rote or repetitive activity, such as sewing, knitting, weeding, painting, vacuuming, swimming, rocking in a chair, using one of those fidget toys. Something about such actions frees the brain, with an added benefit that they soothe the nervous system and help ease anxiety.
—Take a shower.
—Go analog instead of digital. Write by hand. Many studies show that writing by hand is a direct line to your creative brain. This article relates other benefits, as well.
—Garden. Or spend time outside.
—Go to a coffee shop. Many writer find the background hum of a busy cafe to be the equivalent of a noise machine.
—Read poetry, if it inspires you, or a text that does.
—Meet a writing friend to write together, in person or virtually.
Okay, you get the idea. And I hope you’ll experiment with some foundational practices to support your writing. If you already have one (or more) please share them in the comments.
I HAVE A BIG ANNOUNCEMENT.
I’m planning my first workshop for paid subscribers. It will be sometime in September after everyone has gotten back into their routines and the topic is going to be, wait for it: Plotting for Pantsers and Pantsing for Plotters. Several of my clients requested this and I cannot wait to dig in. When it comes to plotting and pantsing, most will convince you that never the twain shall meet. But I think each camp has much to offer the other and that often a middle road is the best. I’ll explain all in the workshop!
When you subscribe at the $8 a month level, you’ll get access to this class and others I’ll offer monthly going forward. Founding members get a one-on-one coaching session upon sign-up!
Also, I can help you with your foundational practices and your riting and anything related to writing and getting words on the page. A couple of my clients have gone on hiatus so I have room for two more writers on my roster. This could take the form of ongoing book coaching, or a manuscript evaluation. If you’re interested, drop a comment. Or reply to this post if it comes into your inbox.
Happy last days of summer!
Charlotte -- This post was very good and at least for me timely. I recently shifted my writing on Substack to be MUCH MORE focused (read shorter). What I have found is by setting out with an intentional plan has made a change a lot easier. Watching the word count while I am writing has turned out to not be a burden but part of the ritual. I feared shorter would mean I would say a lot less. What I have learned is the brevity sharpens the point you want to make. I kinda like it. Of course your practice has a much broader applicability. I think when I pivot to focus on writing a book, this will be a great help. Hence, I marked it for followup. Thanks.