for Cynthia Leitich Smith's Cynsations
I’m a nomadic writer. I figure I put over 400 miles on my boots while writing my second novel, Ashen Winter (Tanglewood, 2012).
A blogger once asked me, “Where do you write?”
“At my laptop,” I answered, somewhat flippantly.
But flippant or not, it’s true. I will gladly plop down wherever I happen to be and try to write.
My normal routine is this: I sit down at home in the morning and try to write 500 words. If I get my first 500 words, I reward myself with a walk—usually to the library eight blocks from my house. Here it is:
Gorgeous, no? And you haven’t seen the best part yet. Inside, they have hundreds of tables that seem custom-designed for nomadic writers. They even have little laptop plugs built into the reading lamps. Check it out:
I sit at one of these lovely tables and try to write another 500 words.
If I reach that goal, I get coffee—or, if it’s gotten late, lunch. One of the best coffee shops in town is six blocks from the library.
Much of Ashen Winter was written there. (Yes, Mr. Scalzi, real writers do work in coffee shops, whatever your opinion of the practice. You enjoy your quiet room at home; I’ll enjoy the pleasant hubbub at Mo’Joes. Okay? Good.) This pattern of walk a bit, write a bit may go on all day, until—on a good day—I’ve written 2,500 or more words.
I think of the walks as lubrication for my brain. (Yes, I know alcohol is the traditional brain lubricant, but alcohol just makes me sillier than normal, not more productive or creative. And does the world really need another alcoholic writer? I think not.) Very often, when I arrive at my physical destination, I’ve arrived at a mental destination, too, and know exactly what to write next.
Sometimes the inspiration is more direct. My walk to the library takes me under this tree at the President Benjamin Harrison Home:
You see how it overhangs the sidewalk? Here’s a close-up of the relevant branch:
This got me to thinking: If that were a real fence, I could easily cross it by climbing along that limb. (Thinking about ways to break into places is an old hobby. As a teen I wandered the streets of Broad Ripple in the middle of the night, breaking into schools, warehouses, and abandoned buildings, usually by climbing a downspout or nearby tree to reach the roof or an open window).
Occasionally I took friends along, but only if they’d agree to my rules:
|New Voice: Mike Mullin on Ashfall|
2) you can’t steal anything, and
3) you never break into anyplace that might be occupied.
The joy of it was getting in—not anything I did once inside.)
Anyway, that train of thought switched onto another track—if there were four feet of snow on the ground, as in Ashen Winter, that branch would enable a clever teen named, say, Alex, to exit from a beaten path without leaving any tracks. Thus, chapters 19 and 20 of Ashen Winter were conceived.
So that’s a bit more than you probably ever wanted to know about my writing process.
What about you? Are you a nomadic writer or a sedentary one? Do you love or despise coffee-shop writers?
Let me know in the comments, please.