A Writer is Never Not Writing

On the road with my imagination

One of the best things about being a writer is that you can take your work with you no matter where you go. Of course, this is true now for lots of jobs because of Zoom and the internet and the acceptance of hybrid work.  But a writer has always been able to work anywhere because all we need are a few transportable tools (pen and paper even) and our imaginations.

Some writers find it hard to work away from home, but I am not that person. I can have my most productive sessions in a noisy coffee shop, by a swimming pool while waiting to do my laps (that’s where the whole idea for The Castle in the Attic came to me) or in my current situation, sitting on a terrace by the Pacific coast of Mexico.

For me, the most important part of writing a novel is staying in touch with the characters and that means checking in with them daily if possible.

So even though I’m living in the 21^st Century, even though I’m ordering my breakfast in Spanish, even though the grackle perched on the wall near my table is haranguing me with his brand of unique chirps and screeches as he steals yet another packet of Splenda from the table, I am visiting the 14th Century.

My characters are in serious trouble trying to cross the Pilgrim Pathway from Holy Island to the mainland of Northumberland with the tide rushing in and threatening to pull them under. 

Two of my characters are kitchen maids who of course, don’t know how to swim and whose heavy wool garments are dragging them down. It helps that when I look up, I can see the wild Pacific waves crashing onshore and the skimming flight of an osprey as she scans the rippled surface for her next catch. (An osprey named Tailwind is a major character in the book.)

But to be honest, as long as I am lost in the world of my imagination, I could just as easily be working on this scene in a coffee shop or in my office at home.

One wise mentor said to me a long time ago. Just remember, you are never not writing. I always think of that when I’ve spent two or three fruitless days trying to move a scene forward and then, after some time off, the words flow out of me as if my characters have simply been waiting for me to sit down and start typing.

Trust yourself, Writer.

The story is forming in your head.

It is simply waiting to tell itself to you.

P.S. A lovely bit of news came my way this week. My memoir, Daughter of Spies,  was selected as a finalist in the Adult Nonfiction category by the Wishing Shelf Book Awards out of the UK. Winners in each category to be announced in April.  But for now, I have been sent a lovely digital gold medal.