Finding my space
This morning my thoughts turned to the ‘how’ and ‘where’ of my writing, rather than the ‘why’. Where do I write best? What helps my productivity and creativity? The conversation started in a fabulous communal writing hour hosted by the brilliant
, the writer behind . The online hour is a very welcoming space where we gather twice a week to write without distraction, to connect and to share.I was sitting outside in my small garden surrounded by urban greenery, shaded by a ridiculously oversized parasol and felt a special kind of peace as I set about my ‘work’. It is certainly not quiet here, as I live next to a busy A-road where there is a constant rumble of traffic, the occasional alarming thunder of a lorry, and the inevitable ‘small penis syndrome’ roar of revved-up motorbikes, yet there is a comfort in the hum. We are also at the confluence of two train lines, one of which is diesel operated, bringing that unique sound of pressure building - a throaty fuel-soaked grumble, groaning up to a point of ignition, followed by the hiss of relief as the carriage pulls away into the Surrey Hills. I feel connected to the sounds of the world, to the passing people whose lives I don’t know, to the locomotive romanticism of calmer times.
Suzy asked us where we like to write, and for some it was indeed on trains - having a mobile office, privacy, the rhythm of the movement. I guess it needs to be the right train at the right time of day!?! For others it was all about getting away from the house, separating from the day to day surroundings in order to find headspace. One lady told how she finally created the perfect ‘art room’ in her home, yet when it was finished she felt paralysed by its beauty and lost her creativity. She unblocked that simply by messing it up.
There’s something in the water
For me there is a definite draw to writing outdoors, and ideally, by the water. I am so inexorably drawn to water, and indeed my first book ‘Breaking Waves’ is all about the unique relationship of women with water across the world; but regardless of what I’m writing about, being near water really does help me get into the ‘flow’; literally, metaphorically, spiritually. My laptop is my faithful companion, as writing can feel like a compulsion - something I need to sneeze out through my fingertips whenever a moment takes me. When I’m outdoors on a beach, by a lake, forest or mountain, I connect to myself, the clouds clear, and that is where the magic begins to happen. I’d love to say I carry round an old fashioned notebook and pen - and sometimes I do - but I can’t write on paper quick enough to keep up with my brain, and perhaps more crucially, I can’t read my own unintelligible handwriting.
A walk in the park
Last weekend whilst I was waiting for my daughter at her gymnastics club for the 40 billionth hour of my life (she’s a national gymnast), I decided to take a walk through Tilgate Park instead of waiting in the cavernous leisure centre with its curious aromatic fog of feet, chlorine, and popcorn. I’ve been to the park before and sat in the cafe, which is lovely but very busy in the summer, and so it feels churlish to order a pot of tea and sit there for two hours amidst the bustling families jostling for space. Admittedly I do sometimes treat myself to a fish finger sandwich just so I feel justified in taking up a table – but even that really only gives me about thirty minutes of what I feel is acceptable table hogging. I had never walked through the ‘other’ side of the park before, and so using my well-honed navigation skills from two decades as an air traffic controller i.e. relying on google maps, I meandered towards a spot at the tip of the lake.
As I walked through quiet forest I kept eyeing places to sit down, but none felt quite right – too shaded, too sunny, too isolated, too much undergrowth, the shady female perma-fear that I might get murdered if it’s too remote...but then as I approached the corner of the lake, a little slice of paradise unfolded. A gorgeous tree providing just enough shade, with the warmth of the sun dappling through. A clearing for my blanket, soft leaves and flat ground, and the flow of the water. On the other side of the lake I could see families, runners, couples and dog walkers through the trees, and faintly hear the excitement of the ‘Go Ape’ and the playground, but in a background way, just like the diesel train and traffic from the garden. It made me feel safe and connected to the world, yet peaceful in a deeply profound way. I set up my laptop, took off my flip flops, then proceeded to read my book and fell asleep without writing a word.
Together alone
I think that’s perhaps what I search for in my writing environment - being together alone. I certainly can’t always find an idyllic lake to sit by, and like any writer, I don’t need any extra excuses to procrastinate - ‘oh, there’s no babbling brook and gentle sounds, I cannot possibly write today’! Get a grip, love. I can create that at home, in a cafe, anywhere where no one is directly interacting with me, yet humanity is within my grasp. (No remote mountain hotels and typewriters for me). As Suzy noted - it’s about finding what works for us as individuals - being on a train, having a writing ritual, finding a quiet room, a toe in the water etc.. but more importantly understanding what underlies that desire so we don’t use it as an excuse when the Nirvana is out of our reach.
Nirvana
We then chatted about what would be our ‘dream’ writing space. I knew instantly. It is where Colin Firth wrote his book in Love Actually, sat outdoors in some wooden construction, surrounded by greenery and facing...a lake. That’s where I want to write. (Although when I searched for images on Google to remind myself of the detail I entered ‘Colin Farrell writing by lake’ instead of Colin Firth - that yielded some curious results). Now obviously as I don’t write on paper, I would NEVER have the disaster of all the pages being blown into the water so that a tanned and gorgeous companion has to strip off and dive into the lake and retrieve them...ok now I’m rethinking the whole paper thing...
In reality I’d be eaten alive by mosquitoes, but in my mind, well you know.
In the meantime, in my garden, the little water feature is on bringing its own melodic stream to the symphony of urban life, I have a cup of tea, and it’s pretty damn perfect.
How about you?
Where do you go to be creative and connect to yourself?
What’s your dream creative space? I’d love to hear about it.
Love and lemons,
Em x 🍋
Wow, you wrote all this in one hour! This is brilliant. Wonderful stuff!