When and Where I Write

I have learnt to lend myself to pen and paper just about anywhere. I can hear the music blaring out from the iPod of the woman sitting ten seats behind me whose music I have not consented to share, especially so early on this crisp winter’s morning.

The loud non-stop banter of the two women on the lower deck is yet another distraction, way too bubbly for such wee hours of the day. None of it matters though. I have slipped into my private space with pen and notebook and soon I am scrawling fast, across the blank pages of my yellow Moleskin notebook on the front seat of the upper deck of a 37 bus. I have trained my mind to be focused and write with ease. I can navigate my way skillfully across the page between the jolts and bumps as the bus heads South towards Brixton from my home in East Dulwich.

What matters most is writing my Morning Pages – a kind of writer’s ritual that affords one the space to undo yourself on the page. I write Morning Pages for many reasons. Today one reason is paramount, I write so I can enter my day with less angst, less worry and more head and soul space to give myself more fully and present to the awakening day.

Over the years I have written in many places. I’ve written at the feet of various trees in many of London’s gorgeous parks and under the shade of trees as far away as New Mexico and upstate New York. Every month, I write regularly on local and intercity trains out of London and Kings Cross mainline stations. I prefer the quiet coaches on trains where away from the noise and din of mobile phones I have a noise free zone for writing.

I’ve also written on packed buses and commuter trains, in cafes and restaurants around the world and dare I say it, many bars. Once, during a lunch time meal with a friend in a posh restaurant in St Christopher’s Place in central London, I excused myself hurriedly from her incessant chatter and headed down to the bathroom where I sat on the toilet seat and scribbled notes on the back of a napkin. Although it wasn’t quite Victor Frankl’s experience of writing on toilet paper in the concentration camp, Frankl’s experience certainly had inspired me to getting scribbling on my double ply luxury napkin.

Nowhere escapes being transformed into a temporary writing station for me. One thing I am sure of is that my Muse cannot afford the luxury of a favourite place or ideal space to write. This writing business is daily business. It’s an everyday task like brushing your teeth and taking a shower. I cannot afford to do one and not the other. If I am to embrace being a writer then the one thing I need to do more than anything is to find places and spaces in my day to write.

I know you’re probably thinking it’s all right for me to sound so gleeful. But trust me, I honestly haven’t always been this way. With years of procrastination, fear and doubt under my belt I’ve been my own worst enemy when it comes to this writing lark. But honestly, I cannot predict better times for me in my life than those times when I commit to writing, do the darn thing and write. The gains to be had from writing have become obvious now. For whatever life throws my way, if I am writing and doing it regularly then somehow I get through it differently. In fact much better actually than if I’m not writing at all.

Right now I’m in the café at Friends Meeting House in central London. I am transcribing my notes from the pages of my yellow Moleskin, in and amongst occasional glances out the window at the traffic thudding past along the Euston Road. In a few minutes I will be sitting on the top deck of a number 68 bus. I will write again. Maybe a few texts, maybe more notes or maybe add some notes to my To Do List.

Where do you prefer to write? Where have you trained yourself to write? Where would you be willing to try out writing? Where are you right now? Can you stop what you are doing right now and write for just 5 minutes?