Finding Your Magical Writing Mojo

Last week I spent a few days in New Orleans with my mom and our guys, celebrating her birthday. This is us having lemon-drop martinis (this particular apple did NOT fall far from the tree!) at Lafitte's - one of my all-time favorite bars. In fact, my mother and I had drinks at this very bar, sitting at one of these window tables, during my trip to New Orleans for the neuroscience convention when I decided to be a writer, not a research scientist. Lo, these many years ago.

I do have my touchstones.

So, yes, I believe everyday magic, in the rituals and celebrations that both let me count my blessings and hopefully pave the way for more. Never let it be said that I'm not a superstitious person, in my way. Something that comes as a surprise to some people. I was telling my agent, Connor Goldsmith, and agency head, Laurie McLean, a story (Birdwoman) and mentioned as part of the tale that I used a pendulum to dowse for petroglyphs. Connor burst out - if you've met Connor, you'll know he has a way of bursting out - with "Good God, Jeffe, you're supposed to be a scientist!" I, naturally, leveled him an even stare and said, "Yes, and a good scientist relies on empirical evidence. I found the petroglyphs."

Heh. And then I freaked them both out with the rest of that story!

You'd think then, that I would have a natural answer to this week's topic: Writer Mojo: my lucky___ (item, coffee, etc.). The thing is, though, I don't. Not anymore. This is why.

See, back when I first set my sights on being a writer instead of a research scientist, I had no idea how to go about it. And yes, I was hugely superstitious about it, as one is when one is grasping for something, anything to hold onto. In a way, because I had no craft, no real skills to rely on, I reached for luck instead.

I think that's significant and something to keep in mind. Many writers refer to various kinds of appeals for outside help like this, whether to a muse or other sorts of divine inspiration. In some ways this reflects our sense that the stories don't come from us exactly, but stream from some other place that's not within our conscious control. I think it also reveals a lack of confidence in our ability to access that place and shape the story from there.

Because I didn't know how to make myself write, I came up with all sorts of superstitious tricks. There was this blue jersey dress I loved, but had worn too much for it to be socially acceptable anymore - stains and worn spots. I wore it to write, to cue myself for that activity. I had certain music, particular totems on my desk, a ritual of starting in to ease my way.

Those things meant everything to me - and the slightest misstep, the least bump in the magic ritual could derail me. I did this for YEARS. At least ten. Seriously. Which means that lucky, magic writing dress that had started in that job as being already too worn to wear in public, had suffered another ten-plus years of wear and tear.

It might have had holes in it.

Big ones.

And finally one day, my husband David pointed out that the holes had gotten so big as to indecently flash portions of my intimate anatomy. I replied (maybe a titch defensively) that only he saw me and what did it matter? He answered, with infinite patience, that the dress had become little more than a collection of strung-together rags and I should put the poor thing out of its misery already. With far less patience, I said this couldn't happen because it was my lucky writing dress.

I still recall the look he gave me as he said, "My dear - the writing comes from you, not from what you wear."

Huh.

It might sound silly, but it was kind of a revelation for me. I realized that he had the right of it, that I had been writing, getting my work published, winning awards and readers for quite some time by then. I had gained the skills and craft I'd lacked to begin with. Most important, I'd developed the discipline to create the foundation to allow the stories to stream in. Discipline that didn't depend on magic or muses.

So, I threw the dress away. Not without some mourning and a fair amount of grief. It marked an era of my life. I also ditched, one by one, my other writing rituals. As I eliminated each one and the stories continued to flow - even improve and lengthen - I experienced a newfound sense of freedom. It felt liberating not to need those things.

It gave me confidence, a kind of trust in what I knew how to do and what I could produce.

While some writers talk about their "muses" and how to coax them into visiting, others - like Neil Gaiman and Eudora Welty - have given great advice about doing the work. By sitting down and writing words, by putting in the time and dedicated discipline, we create the foundation for the stories to emerge. It’s not the clothes or the lucky mug or that perfect soundtrack, it’s us, developing the skills and concentration. Maybe it takes a long time to believe in that, but eventually we can set those crutches aside and trust in ourselves.

I did love that dress, though.

The 3-Step No Mercy Method for Increasing Productivity

This week's theme is tricks for "Make It Work" time - those productivity tips for when your back is up against the wall.

So let's be clear. This isn't about the sustainable schedule, the indulging-your-art days, the finding the happy, the being kind to yourself and enjoying your life approach.

No no no.

This is after you've been kind to yourself - maybe a little TOO kind - and it's time to whip out your inner boot camp drill instructor and kick your own ass into shape.

Thus we have my NO MERCY Method for Getting Words on the Page.

1. No Distractions Allowed

See Exhibit A above. It's very cute and snuggly that the kitten likes to drape himself over my typing arm. Because it's so charming and I'm a total sucker, I let him do it. But it seriously hampers my typing speed, not to mention all the pauses while I stop to pet him, which is his overall goal anyway.

The No Mercy Method says the kitten must leave the room. This goes for children, spouses, cute little birds that sit on your shoulder and nibble your ear. Close them out and lock the door. I don't care if that means you're sitting in the linen closet. Do it.

Distractions can also be inanimate, which is part of why I keep my desk pretty clear. Move all books, puzzles and interesting toys out of arm's reach. You'll see why when you get to #3.

2. No External Entertainment

No TV playing in the background. No favorite movie in the DVD player. No access to the internet. No sitting outside and watching the birds. Nothing but you and the screen of your mind. Annie Dillard says she writes facing a blank wall, so she has nothing else to look at. I've tried this when I've been crunched and it totally worked for me.

Okay, now I just hear you all whining through the internet (remember - there is no whining in boot camp!) that music doesn't count.

I'm going hard line and saying music does so count as entertainment, especially if it has words. Anything that's coming in from outside your head is one less thing your head has to come up with on its own. No music is the aural equivalent of the blank wall. You're not sitting there to have fun - you're there to produce!

I think coffee shops and other public venues also count, but I know a lot of people don't have even linen closets to sit in and you have to do what you can.

3. Set a Time Limit

And stick to it. I set Freedom for 90 minutes, but ANY length of time will do. I swear this works. Even if it's only ten or fifteen minutes, the whole trick is to make yourself understand that you're there for the duration, writing words and there will be no getting up.

For that time, I'm not allowed to get out of my chair for any reason. Maybe if my life was in danger, but that's it. The delivery guy comes, I wave and he leaves the box on the porch. I have to pee - I hold it until my time is up. The phone rings, I'll call them back. (I usually turn off the ringer, so the sound doesn't break my concentration.) I need to look up a word, I highlight it. Cute kitty wants to come in? She can wait. You want to check that citation - oh no, you can't reach the book. Alas.

It's kind of like the avoiding lava game from when we were kids - if you lift your butt out of the chair, you'll drown in lava! No one wants that to happen to you! Once the timer goes off, the floor is solid again - hooray!

Remember the No Mercy method means ruthless adherence to the rules - for yourself AND for all those other people (and kittens) who want just a moment of your attention. So, here's my sure-fire method for if someone tries to interrupt you. You know what it is, don't you?

Scream OH MY GOD - LAVA!!!!!!

Feel free to do this until they go away.

But remember to add those extra minutes to your timer.

Good words people!

Jeffe - The Soundtrack

by Jeffe Kennedy

Regular readers here and on my personal blog know I'm big on writing rituals to get and keep the flow. Music can be a big part of that.

Back when I first really got serious about being a writer, which meant, um, actually writing instead of just talking about it, music was a major tool.

I needed something back then to put my mind in the right mode to write, because I had no good habits. Okay, I needed a bunch of somethings, but that was a biggie for me. So I wrote to the soundtrack for The Mission. Every time.



Even now those opening strains light me up and make me want to write.

I don't listen to it as often now, but this music is like an old friend, the fallback sounds I can count on to dig me out of the deepest hole.

OBSIDIAN was written pretty much entirely to this soundtrack.

When I started my second novel, THE BODY GIFT, I wanted to try something different. There were two songs at the time that really were lighting me up. They still do it for me.

This isn't the exact version of Antje Duvekot's Merry-Go-Round that I listen to, but I like this live acoustic version, too. And no, I've never seen the commercial she talks about either.



The other is Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek. The official music video for it turns out to be kind of cool - and hugely bracketed by obnoxious ads that you can't make go away. I didn't want to pollute your little minds with that crap, so this is just the lyrics running by.



The final piece is the great boon to my life that is Genius on iTunes. I took these two songs and created a playlist of just shy of 300 songs that I call my Rowan playlist. Rowan is the heroine in TBG and this music is really all about her.

I'm not sure I could exactly explain why.

These days, I mostly write in silence. Sometimes I put on the Rowan playlist. Sometimes the Writing playlist, which now consists of soundtracks from The Mission, Master & Commander and Billy Joel's Fantasies and Delusions.

I know. I've been accused of giving people musical whiplash.

Extra points if you can identify the duet on the iPod - another of my all-time favorites.

Writing Space

NOTE: Retread of an old post wherein I promised photos. Here they are.

Writing on the boat with help from a friend

The office at the house

 Where do I write? Where ever I can. I'm a nomad. I can't afford to get hung up on the were's and the how's , and recently, the who's around concerns. If I want to write, I have to write, regardless of the histrionics and nuclear bombs falling down around me (some days, easier said than done - like just now, with one cat jumping on the other's head...)

So, nice sentiment. How is anyone supposed to learn how to write anywhere, any time? It all comes back to sacred space and ritual - something you've seen mentioned frequently this week. For my purposes here, ritual means a set of actions that act as a signal to the brain and body that we're leaving ordinary life behind and entering into sacred/creative space. Sacred space doesn't have to mean 'church' per se, though it can. It simply means any place separate from the rest of life - a time or space held in reserve for a specific purpose (and often, consecrated to that purpose, but that's a layer of detail we wouldn't get into here). 

Everyone who has a specific place and/or time to write, engages in ritual when time comes to begin work. Think about the repeated actions -  turning on the computer, maybe clearing away the paperwork from paying bills, the cup of coffee or tea. These rituals set the stage. They are the signposts that say "We're writing, now." And know it or not, you've slipped into a sacred place - a place wherein you're summoning gods and demons, creating worlds and life and breath. Likely, you have a set of rituals that eases you back out of that place and into the rest of the world where the laundry and breakfast dishes await. 

What does this have to do with my writing space? Everything. As a nomad, with no one place to call home, and for the past five months, without solitude, I have to carry my writing space with me. Inside me. Sacred space can't be attached to an external location. I'd like it to be. But for right now, my sacred space has to be inside me. That's the trick to writing anywhere. You retreat so that you aren't just anywhere. You're tucked into you're mental cathedral, or cave, or castle and you're writing. Regardless.

Wasteland

What happens when I don't write?

Nothing.

Really. My brain fogs over. I become listless and snarly. My senses dull and the world loses vibrancy. The beds don't get made. The laundry might get done once in a little while, but usually only when someone runs out of socks or undies.

If I go too long without writing, it's like the vital, awake part of me dies. At that point, no one deserves to have to be around me. You know how zombie stories are meant to be sociological commentaries on how inhuman humans can become when living on autopilot? Me not writing = zombie. Careful. I might bite.

Writing isn't so much what I do as it is an integral piece of who I am. For whatever reason, I process best on paper. Some people can fit together all the pieces of their lives and experiences without first having to regurgitate it, then shoehorn it into the existing matrix of 'who I am'. Not me. Everything I've seen, felt, experienced, done, had done - it all brews and bubbles up under the surface of my skin where it will eventually turn poisonous. Even the good stuff.

If I'm not writing, it gets crowded inside me. I'm overwhelmed and deeply unhappy. Writing, whether it's journaling or putting stories together (usually a blend of both), bleeds off the toxic build up. It clears out space inside my head and body, leaving me clear - a sort of internal spring cleaning plus garage sale getting rid of old, worn out stuff. Stories need room. In order to write books, I have to clear out the mental/emotional clutter on a regular basis. Sometimes, the books themselves do that job - thus answering the question of whether real life shows up in my books. Yes. But so as you'd ever know what, where or who.

For whatever reason, filing my life away in my brain, the way most normal people do, doesn't work right for me. Writing makes everything real. Including me.

Rituals: Fighting Entropy

By Kerry Schafer

It occurred to me this week, while reading my sister whores' wise and wonderful posts on ritual, or the lack thereof, that it's time for me to dig in my heels again and create a barrier between me and the rest of the world. A fortress, you might say, because sometimes it feels like the minute I decide to sit down and write, the universe conspires to prevent me.

Much of this occurs with my permission, I confess, and some of it because I'm very good at the Martyr Complex:

~hand to forehead~ Oh, woe is me, why must everybody need me to do something when I am trying to write?

Seriously, though, it often feels like I'm fighting a failing battle against forces of entropy directed specifically, and personally, at me. My first novel took me ten years to write. Most of it was written at a desk situated squarely in the middle of the kids' play room. Those of you who have experienced small people will know exactly how that worked out. My schedule does not lend itself to routine - no two days of the week unfold the same. Writing time happens where there is time and energy. A lot of this I can't change. What I can do is organize and streamline so less time is wasted on fighting off the chaos.

At this house, there is no separate office space available to me. The first year or so we lived up here, I worked at the table in the open area - right next to the TV and the XBox and the food preparation. But I'm learning, and as I was focusing more and more time and attention on writing, we decided to put a desk in the only possible separate space, the Mud Room. This at least separated me from the rest of the family by a door. A glass door. But still a door.




However, no changes were made other than to shove a desk into a space that already had a life and a purpose all its own. Clutter and chaos continued to abound, and I found myself avoiding writing here because it felt like sitting in a coat closet, fending off the powers of chaos (my own and everybody elses') with energy that could have been put to a better and more creative use.

I chose a day this week when everybody was away - the Viking sailing the high seas of enterprise, the kids off at school - so there would be no questions, arguments, criticisms, or other discouraging comments from the peanut gallery. And I began to turn the mudroom into My Writing Space:


Yep, the shoes are still here, as are the coats. But there is considerably more space for me and it feels, as it was meant to, like a space for writing. Inadvertently, I even created a special spot for my feline assistant:



I'm still not done, of course. I need to hang the bulletin board. The filing cabinet is crammed with junk that needs to be shredded. But this is progress - an affirmation that the writing matters to me, if nothing else. I can draw a deep breath, and it feels like a place where writing should happen.



The next challenge - creating time. I'll let you know how I do with that one.

Writing Ritual

By Marcella Burnard

Word of advice on ritual? Cats and candles don't mix. Take my word for that one. Your homeowner's insurance will thank you.

I'm one of those 'write in the cracks' people. Boredom is the best, most compelling motivation. Bore me and I can (and will) write anywhere. During third period English class. In the middle of the fitness club's cafe. Waiting rooms, ferry lines, where ever. The place that's nearly impossible? My office. Especially in the house where we house sit. There's always something that needs to be done. Rather than sitting with boredom that needs filling, there's a rising sense of guilt over the fact that the laundry hasn't been folded or put away in over a week. The floors haven't been vacuumed in...I forget how long. I used to be better. All the chores were done every day. Writing and house management. It all got done. Clearly, I'm slipping.

The problem seems to be a kind of technology induced ADD. Twitter, Facebook, blogs (the ones I read, as opposed to those I write...), IM, Email - all connecting me with friends I've never met all in far flung places. I'm addicted to checking in all the time - like a junior high school girl more interested in socializing than in school work. As a result, my brain feels pulled apart, fragmented. My focus is scattered and my writing pays the price. Noise fills my head with lists of everything that needs to get done. Stuff I've forgotten or might forget. Until I can shut that stuff up, the stories living inside get drowned out by the rumble of day to day 'Idiot! You forgot the eggs! Again!' voices.

So how to pull the melting brain taffy back into shape? Travel always works for me. Nothing like a good, long road trip to lull frentic brainwave activity into a calmer state. It has the added bonus of cutting you off from technology because you don't text in the car, right?? While I suspect the upcoming five month sailing trip will help, I don't recommend that drastic a travel plan. (I did tell you about this, right? The DH quit his job and we're going up the Inside Passage for five months? Thought so.) Physical exercise works, too, but not the sort that can be done in an hour or two a day. No. Once again, I have to go to extremes, put packs on my bike and ride fifty miles a day for at least three days before the exercise can exorcise the voices. Morning and evening pages (free writing in long hand three pages in the morning and in the evening - anything and everything that's cluttering up the synapses) helps over time. A set of productivity CDs makes a big difference in focus. (I use the Holosync CDs - caution, marketed as if they were snake oil - but the actual CDs do the job for me.) I've also used these.

Ultimately, though, I'll try anything that isn't illegal or patently unhealthy to get words on a page. I don't include immoral in that recitation because my definition of immoral is probably too loose to qualify as a delimiter. Ritual or no, I'm looking for a space of mental silence. Achieving that, I write. When I write, I finally feel like I'm 100% alive.

Writing Without Rituals

by Allison Pang

Okay, so the truth of the matter is that I have no ritualistic approach to writing. Quite honestly, I don't have time for that. While I love the concept of having a nice neat little bit of sacred space to write, the reality is that even if I should clear up the desk, or the office, or some back corner in my bedroom, it will invariably be invaded by small people tracking mud and leaving crumbs in their wake. Or transformers. Or Barbie. Or transformers wearing Barbie's head.

There's nothing particularly sacred or inspirational about decapitated Barbies. (Or maybe there is, but I'm not sure it's the sort of inspiration I'm looking for.)

My desk right now should be probably be outlawed as some sort of hazardous spill zone, but that's a separate post in its own right.

When I first started writing to get pubbed, I didn't have much of a system. I made up a lot of excuses as to why I couldn't get any writing done on a particular day. I don't know if it was fear of failure or fear of success, but one day I finally decided that yes, I wanted this - and if I wanted something to happen, then I needed to write. Buying another book on how to write doesn't do anything except make me feel good for five minutes. After all, I'm *learning* how to write, right? Hmmph.

But I know the procrastination beast pretty well these days. I can fool myself quite easily that I'm doing something...even when I know I'm not.

I can't really fight against my nature, though. I don't usually find writing in of itself as anything particularly sacred. It is what it is and sometimes it's a struggle. I often feel like I'm some sort of literary mafia queen, where I have to threaten my brain to get the words out now, or I'm going to shove a decapitated horse head into the power supply. (Doesn't always work.)

I don't know if that is just a symptom of the stress in my daily life, but I allow myself to be distracted pretty much all the time. (I always have though. I wonder if might not have some version of ADD or something.) Even when I shut off the internet and there is no one around me (rare as that is), I will get up out of my chair and just stroll around the house aimlessly for ten minutes. I'll eat. I'll dance.  I'll write a hundred words...and then I'll get back up again.

I still get my 1000 words done (or whatever my daily goal happens to be that day - but on work days, it's 1000 due to time constraints), but it's a long, drawn out process. Maybe that's just the way my brain works. Or maybe I'll never be cut out to be one of those people who sits and writes all day. It's not that I don't want to write. I do. The story is there...but I have to drag it out of myself kicking and screaming nearly the whole time.

One thing that I cannot do is force it. There's a difference between the muse being coy and wanting to be flirted with and the muse who's shut himself up in the bathroom to wax his chest.The more I try to do it when I don't really want to, the more reasons I find to sit and ignore the keyboard. I don't go so far as to launch Dragon Age 2 or anything like that, but all of a sudden my toenails will get very interesting.

With that in mind, I bought a netbook - it goes pretty much everywhere with me. I've had to learn to become the stealth writer. I try to set aside time every night to write...and that works to a point, but knowing that if I'm stuck somewhere for any length of time becomes much easier to bear if I've got the ability to launch the manuscript and go. If I'm at the doctor's office, the kid's basketball practice, lunch-break, wherever. I've become the master at ignoring the outside world, but that sort of focus only happens when I am ready to write. (And I hit the muse over the head with a baseball bat and drag him back to my story cave.)

It may not be the most graceful systems, but it's the only one I've got right now.

You Don't Mess with the Writing Ritual

By KAK

I am a creature of habit. Based on previous posts, you may think this is due to some undiagnosed Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Nah. It’s purely a matter of protection from myself.

90% of the time, 

my brain is not fully engaged in the moment.

It’s trying to recall the vivid dreams of how my protagonist is going to progress/survive/out-fart a demon. (Wha? Not every fantasy battle requires blood loss.) I like waking up in that mid-realm between reality and dreams. I’m totally thrilled to be able to fire up the laptop and launch straight into wherever my dreams are directing the story.

I’m not so fine when the toothpaste is not in its bucket on the right side of the sink, one full arm extension and a shoulder-twitch from my reach.  

That’s how I get a mouthful of zit cream.

The resulting tirade inevitably includes, “Who messed with the Zohan?” That leads to a spiral of quoting Adam Sandler movies, which then devolves into singing Adam Sandler songs, and then bottoms out with “The World’s Longest Pee.”  

Gone is the GENIUS of the dream.

Left behind is the giggling pubescent me, who would much rather do anything except work. My morning should unfold thusly:

     Phase 1: Wake, Potty, Beastie Out, Coffee, Beastie Fed, Laptop ready

     Phase 2: Dream Dump (as in words, people, not poo)

     Phase 3: E-mail, Facebook, Twitter, Blog Troll (1-hour on these, no more)

     Phase 4: Re-read/Edit work from previous day, Write, Write, Write

I am super crankypants when any part of that goes awry, because I know my weakness is doing anything but that which I am supposed to do. 

Case: Yesterday, birds decided to make a nest in the light over my front door. One of the glass panes is gone, giving the poo-bombers a nice cozy space to make a home…until I turn on said lights and hardboil their young. This seemingly minor distraction ended up wasting two hours of research on replacement fixtures. 

Were I still in a corporate setting, going MIA from work for two hours would result in a Performance Improvement Plan, also known as Step 1 in Firing an Employee. The accountability doesn’t change simply because I am my own employer.

Working from home requires rituals.

Rituals lead to habits that result in productivity.

What sort of things are guaranteed to derail your writing habit? Which of those things are within your control to keep from breaking the ritual?

News and ... Writing as Meditation

by Laura Bickle

This is going to be a very good year for the Word Whores! Last week, we learned of Marcella Burnard's fabulous news: ENEMY WITHIN finaled in TWO RITA categories! If you haven't already, go pick it up and read what the buzz is about:

After a stint in an alien prison torpedoes her military career, Captain Ari Idylle has to wonder why she even bothered to survive. Stripped of her command and banished to her father's scientific expedition to finish a PhD she doesn't want, Ari never planned to languish quietly behind a desk. But when pirates commandeer her father's ship, Ari once again becomes a prisoner.

Pirate leader Cullin Seaghdh may not be who he pretends to be but as far as Cullin is concerned, the same goes for Ari. Her past imprisonment puts her dead center in Cullin's sights and if she hasn't been brainwashed and returned as a spy, then he's convinced she must be part of a traitorous alliance endangering billions of lives. Cullin can't afford the desire she fires within him and he'll stop at nothing, including destroying her, to uncover the truth.

Irresistable, hmmm?

And Jeffe Kennedy also has exciting news. She sold SAPPHIRE to Carina Press. It'll be available Fall 2011, and she'll be working with Deb Nemeth as editor. Here's a sneak peek:

M. Taylor Hamilton, a successful executive, runs her life with smooth efficiency. She’s on track with her ten-year plan – which includes CEO at year eight – and she’s reaping the benefits of her hard work. Never mind that her personal life consists mainly of hitting the gym and grocery shopping.
Enter the seductive Adam Kirliss. They’ve spent nearly a year in meetings closing a big deal, and it seemed he took it well when she declined his pass early on, but everything changes at the deal-closing celebration on her boss’s yacht. She puts up with escalating intrusiveness, like asking what the “M” in her name stands for, to keep things smooth. That much rope, however, is too much. Taking advantage of the shadows, Kirliss handcuffs her to the rail of the yacht, taunts her with her needs and shatters her control. He gives her the safe word “Sapphire,” in tribute to her eyes, but she refuses to show weakness by using it.


Taylor is willing to write the adventure off as too much champagne and too much work. But Kirliss pursues her, challenging her to a date with him. She breaks down and agrees to one lunch. Over the meal, Kirliss alternately romances her with roses and unsettles her with suggestions of what he’d like to do to her. He’s determined to prove that she longs for the loss of control he can give her – that her buried self, M, needs – and the passionate release that it provides.

I can't wait to get my hands on it. Mark your calendars!

And now, I bring you back to your regularly-scheduled writing as meditation programming...

Writing as Meditation
by Laura Bickle

I first heard of the idea of writing as sacred space from my sister Word Whore, Jeffe Kennedy. I've been mulling over the idea for a couple of months, and agree that there is something ritualistic about writing. Spiritual, even. The practice requires frequent devotion and discipline.

For me, once I started to think about it, there are some distinctly spiritual aspects of my own practice of writing. And those are solitude and silence.

I know a lot of very accomplished writers who can work in crowded coffee shops. Folks who can write with the television on and cell phones chirping. I'm guessing that the majority of writers can do that. I can't. I wish I could.

I remind myself that there are a million different ways to write. None of them is wrong, and there is no "right way" to write. No way that is intrinsically better than any other.

But I know what is right for me. And I need to be by myself to write. It's sort of an inner pilgrimage, a meditation. I can't hear the voice I'm writing with over the distraction of others, whether it's chatter or having someone looking over my shoulder. I want quiet, to block out distraction, and focus on the mantra unfurling on the page. It's a mantra that changes, moves, and reveals itself when its ready.

Writing can be like meditation, in that respect. Distracting thoughts enter, usually from the perspective of a critical inner editor. I try to observe those thoughts and let them go. Focus on the page and breathe at it for awhile. Sometimes, my focus is better than others. When it's good, I lose time. There's just me and the idea.

It's then up to me to listen to it. And for that, I need to strip away the distractions and focus on that one thing, for just a little while. At least, until my more "secular" life impinges upon it.

Ritual in Writing

by Jeffe Kennedy

I confess I'm big on writing rituals. In fact, if you read my regular blog, Love, Power & Fairytale Endings, you've probably read everything I have to say on the topic already, so you could skip today's blog.

My favorite religious studies professor in college, Professor Hadas, told me that once - that I'd already learned everything he had to teach and he would not allow me to take any more classes from him. He gave me a list of other professors to learn from. As I progressed through life, that assertion of his became one of the qualities about him I most admired. Many people tend to want to keep their students locked to them. They want to be forever the one with more knowledge, with a circle of admirers. One teacher I knew never released his students. He forever told them they'd only scratched the surface, stringing them along, to keep them by his side.

Professor Hadas described himself as a non-practicing Orthodox Jew. If you don't know much about Orthodox Judaism, this is a deliberate joke. Orthodox Jews believe in practice overall. Where many Christian groups say you need only have faith and the rest doesn't matter, the Orthodox Jews say you must do the practice and it doesn't matter what you believe. They hold that if you say the prayers and do the rituals, you create a space for faith to fill.

And believe me, the Orthodox Jews do a lot of prayers and rituals.

Everything they practice, from the 112 prayers they say every day, starting when they wake and finishing when they go to bed, to their dietary restrictions to the special clothing they wear, is designed to remind them of what is most important to them, which is the presence of Yahweh.

The crucial aspect of this is putting your attention on what's important to you. That's ritual in writing comes in for me. Writing is important to me. But I've had to work to make it important in my life. It's very easy to let all the busyness of life overcome writing time. We've all heard writers complain about how their day was so busy they got no writing done. What they're saying is "everything else I did today was more important to me than writing."

Harsh, I know. But true, yes?

Ritual is what creates the importance. It builds the wall around the space where writing happens - and defends it against everything that would love to eat away at it. So, I have things that make me think about writing on my study walls and on my desk. I sit down to write at the same time every day, wearing the same clothes. That's why I posted this not flattering photo of me, so you can see. I start with the same music that I've been writing to for years.

These rituals remind me that this is important to me. They cue me that now is the time to sit, to be quiet, to turn off the phone and the emails and the twitter and only write. This is a form of prayer for me. The Taoists hold that only when we concentrate with singular focus on something, are we whole in ourselves.

Plus I get to make up stories.

I may not have learned everything Professor Hadas had to teach, but I did learn this. And it's been one of his greatest gifts to me.