Most days are just a jumble of everything. Walking the tightrope, balancing again and yet again. Managing this, that and the other thing. And getting to writing last of all; sometimes the last thing in the day even though it is the first thing on my mind.
Yet, the way all days are different even though they have an underlying thread of madness; all writing is different. Sometimes, I write in absolute silence, thinking of ideas, churning words in my mind, being with it completely and letting it all flow naturally. Everything comes together perfectly and I don’t want to change even an alphabet. At other times, I know what I want to write. I can sit in absolute clash and clang, people shouting or music blaring and write a brilliant piece. Unless my clothes at tugged at and I have food/art projects/broken toys pushed under my nose, I do just great.
I am a pen and paper person completely and I am proud of my writing instruments and the different kinds of paper I have managed to stock up. Yet, I know that it takes a lot of time to type what I’ve put on paper. Not just time wise but the trouble of reading my own scrawl. So, increasingly I turn to the keyboard for writing. However, to beat the block or write something momentous and from the soul, I still use a pen.
I don’t need a corner really, nor a desk. I don’t need a beverage or a sugary snack. The sofa would do, or the bed, or the chair with the bamboo jutting out. Once I start, I don’t know where I am sitting or what the time is. I don’t see the hues of the plants around me, or the dried out fallen leaves. I don’t see the sway of the trees even though these things ordinarily move me.
Writing is not an activity or a hobby or a profession. It is a pouring out in words what I am deep within. It is my emotions and impressions, my perceptions and experiences, my hopes and aspirations.
Where do you write? What do you need to create the perfect writing space and mood?