Thursday, June 4, 2015
So it seems I'm in a groove whereby I blog about writerly stuff I've read in the paper. Last post was about the wonderful Sarah Baume, and today it's about this interesting article wot I read in the Irish Times a weekend or so ago -"The writing ritual: from blank page to Booker contender" Perhaps this blog should be renamed - Tríona Reacts!
I devoured this article... would their routines be like mine? Would they have a secret that I could copy and therefore unlock heretofore unprecedented productivity? It was quite exciting. In the end it was mainly a lot of talk about rewards of tea and toast.
And seeing as I do that already, it wasn't much help.
But I still find the whole subject of how writers write fascinating.
I have a bit of a JK Rowling thing going on. I go to this fabulous cafe that is just down the road from my youngest child's preschool. I drop her off, I go to this cafe, I steal their electricity and I write for three hours until my child has been sufficiently educated for the day. The cafe staff ask me how the book is going and I get to act all writerly and pretentious. I drink far too much coffee. Then I pick child up again and go home to the mess and the chaos and the mess...
I have a problems now though. School is out for summer very soon. No lovely cafe, no three lovely hours of writing. I'm going to have to write at home. With four noisy galoots. And all their noisy friends. Bah.
There was a time when I could write at the kitchen table, with them crawling around at my feet. I was able to block out the sound of Barney the Dinosaur and immerse myself in whatever fiction I was creating. Not anymore. They're just too big and I'm just too old to do it anymore. Now I need (relative) quiet.
So, what's the plan?
Well, it looks like long suffering hubby is going to be a bit more suffery. He's getting kicked out of the study. He's getting a desk in the bedroom (sure he already sleeps there, why not work there too, sounds great...) and I'm taking over the study. The littlest children will be allowed in, cause they're quieter than the big lads, and so I will still get to write (and paint. Don't forget my ART!)
While I won't get to float around my cafe being writerly, at least I won't have to stop writing and we won't go bankrupt from all the lattes I've been buying. (Hubby could have turned into a Golum type creature before September comes round again though. But it's a chance I'm willing to take.)
What are your rituals?? Tell me all :)