We writers are very good at fooling others and ourselves.  Any mind which can dream up wonderful stories can also dream up countless reasons, (excuses really), to give up part way through a project.

But we can also use little things to convince ourselves all is well.  In the old days - pre word processor - many writers would have odd little rituals or preferences which put them in the right mood for working. 

There were those who always wrote in longhand first, and couldn't really get going without the right pen or pencil, or a particular type of paper or notebook.

I always used to treat myself to a new ream of typing paper and a new ribbon.  To me that new ream was my book, all I had to do was put the words into it.  It almost felt as if half the work was already done.  The paper from that particular box was never used for anything else until the story was finished.  After that it was just general stock.  There was something very satisfying about watching the box empty and the filled pages piling up in the lid on the other side of the typewriter.

It took a while to adjust to using A4 instead of Quarto, 10" x 8".  Those modern pages always seemed to drag towards the end even though it was only a few lines more ;-)

Now, in the days of the endless processor page, I always treat myself to a new thumb-drive and write the title - or even just a working title -  on the plastic with a fine marker.   I have to click 'properties' to see it filling up, but some of the old magic is still there.

It's just writer's psychology, I can't really fool myself into thinking the job's half done.  At the conscious level I know this.  But turning it into a physical entity makes it feel more real somehow.

It works for me.

But when I was knocking out factual magazine articles and 2000 word top shelf 'confessions' from a female viewpoint I never felt the need for the rituals.    Somewhere in my mind there's a clear disconnection between 'just work' and 'creativity'.  I've made it work for me.  I rarely even saw the 'confessions' after they left my hands.  Purely mercenary hack work.

Do you have any writing rituals which you'd hate to lose and are willing to share.

Gyppo

My ritual is going straight to my keyboard from my bed. If I get up and go straight to my office to work, I can create a masterpiece. If anything interupts my journey, I'm ruined for the day.

I'm still adapting to having a totally separate room as an office.  I like it, but compared to the fourteen inch commute from bed to chair it seems like a long way when I wake up in the night with a brilliant idea.  I have a notebook - paper and pen - but I think my dressing gown is more useful ;-)

Anything which removes barriers between you and your words is good.

What - you used to get out of bed to write?  I didn't, at least not until I had my own house.  I used to tell people I made my living in bed.  Some of them were curiously interested, others shuffled swiftly away.

Things change when you have the house to yourself ;-)

=====

When I was a kid I could sit upright in bed and write, and often did.  As an adult I can't just sit up in my bed, it's too uncomfortable or I end up slipping down.

But until the move I did have a 4' x 2' whiteboard on the wall by my bed, with a couple of pens.  There was usually enough light from the streetlight to write by if an important idea woke me up.

For someone writing whilst lying on one side, sometimes even with the wrong hand, the writing was surprisingly legible.  Although the words didn't always make sense in the cold light of day ;-)

But I do have plans for a decent sized whiteboard in the kitchen, for those times when an idea strikes and your hands are too messy or wet to write a reminder on paper.

Quote from: Jo Bannister on December 25, 2017, 09:43:45 AM
What - you used to get out of bed to write?  I didn't, at least not until I had my own house.  I used to tell people I made my living in bed.  Some of them were curiously interested, others shuffled swiftly away.

Edith Wharton made her living in bed too. She would wake up each day and write her bed on a specially designed lap-desk, numbering each page before she'd let them fall to the floor beside the bed. When she'd finally get out of bed, around 11 am, her maids would collect the strewn papers and hand them to her secretary to type, so she could proof them later on. Ain't life a dream?

For those not familiar with American Television, back in the 1990's there was a show called "Home Improvement" where the main character was a man known as "Tim The Toolman".  He loved tools, especially power tools. He had a knack for observing a piece of power equipment in action, then getting a scathingly brilliant idea on how he could make the thing even more powerful, proving disastrous as the show progressed. 

That is how I write.  I get scathingly brilliant ideas when given a prompt, and simply have to get it documented.   Sometimes the prompt is a dream, sometimes an incident in real life.  Sometimes it is a challenge or task from someone. 

At work, I was once challenged to make the error messages on a set of mainframe screens more explicit and entertaining.  "Excuse Me - THAT is not a number!"  I gave the computer a sarcastic but helpful personality, and my clients loved it. 

I also made the training manuals, documentation manuals, and courses more entertaining, but by doing so, I could run my students harder that anyone else, and they didn't complain.   

Quote from: Mr. Barry on December 28, 2017, 07:15:15 AM
At work, I was once challenged to make the error messages on a set of mainframe screens more explicit and entertaining.  "Excuse Me - THAT is not a number!"  I gave the computer a sarcastic but helpful personality, and my clients loved it. 

I also made the training manuals, documentation manuals, and courses more entertaining, but by doing so, I could run my students harder that anyone else, and they didn't complain.   

I like it.  Make it interesting, not just functional.  A machine with a bit of personality is easier to relate to.  My computers have all had a name, and usually a gender.   My series of Amstrads, all shared the name of Ammy and were all male. I'm currently on Marie-6.  She is the direct lineal descendant of the original Marie, a secondhand Compaq, and still contains some of the hardware from my first 'real' PC, and a legacy programme or two.

She got the name after I was setting it up and in the space for name of computer I found 'Marie'.  It seemed wrong to change it ;-)  She was bilingual too, with software to swap from French to English keyboard layouts.  I always assumed her original owner was called Marie and worked as a translator, or similar.

I made a screensaver which kicks in after seven minutes of inaction and scrolls an eye-popping lime-green message across the screen, "Crack on, Slacker."

But this wouldn't work for everyone.  I've had visitors tell me, in all seriousness, "I wouldn't let my computer talk to me like that.  I'd throw it through the nearest window."

People are strange.  If we watch them for long enough, including ourselves, it makes it a lot easier to create characters.

Gyppo

Quote from: Mr. Barry on December 28, 2017, 07:15:15 AM
At work, I was once challenged to make the error messages on a set of mainframe screens more explicit and entertaining.  "Excuse Me - THAT is not a number!"  I gave the computer a sarcastic but helpful personality, and my clients loved it. 

A while back, when the latest thing was those mobile navigation systems like Garman, I saw you could change the name and type of voice with which they spoke to you. On mine, I choose a rather posh British woman's voice. Her name was Penelope or Prudence or something like that. I had a hot little Mazda Miata roadster. It was british racing green, still my favorite color for a car, and I felt like James Bond when I'd turn a corner sharply. One day, my brother was my passenger and I yelled over to him, "Hold on!", and spun the wheel and car around the corner into my village. He looked over at me and commented like a Bond woman, "Oh, James."

Brendan aka MiggsEye

Quote from: Gyppo on December 28, 2017, 12:29:20 PM
I've had visitors tell me, in all seriousness, "I wouldn't let my computer talk to me like that.  I'd throw it through the nearest window."

People are strange.  If we watch them for long enough, including ourselves, it makes it a lot easier to create characters.

Gyppo

Agreed. And I'm glad you emphasized that. Lately, I've been more of an observer of myself. My mannerisms. The thoughts I have that follow. The emotions traveling with them.

As far as my computer, I'd be less apt to throw it out the window if I gave it a name.

I have these two floaters, you know those things in your eye that float by in your vision that constantly irritate. At least they did for a long time until I gave them names. One I named Oscar and I'd go hello, "Hello, Oscar," whenever he'd float by. He just floated by right now. He irritates me less and less now that I'm friendly towards him. The other one disappeared and I've forgotten his name.

In my middle age, when my two eldest grandsons were under ten years of age, I had a red sports car.  I would take my boys for rides around town, and we had a blast.   

One particular spot we frequented required a very tight right hand turn.  The first time we went there, I cautioned the boys that an S.O.B. corner was coming up.  They looked at me in shock, as I had never before even hinted at cussing.  Their other set of grandparents, however, incorporated such blue language into everyday conversations with pretty much everybody, including young grandsons. 

I just smiled knowingly, and hit the gas going around the corner.  Inertia forced us to lean heavily, and the boys started to gravitate to one side of the back seat.  I yelled out, "Slide Over, Baby!"  This became a feature of our rides for years to come. 

Quote from: Mr. Barry on December 28, 2017, 06:26:41 PM
In my middle age, when my two eldest grandsons were under ten years of age, I had a red sports car.  I would take my boys for rides around town, and we had a blast.   

One particular spot we frequented required a very tight right hand turn.  The first time we went there, I cautioned the boys that an S.O.B. corner was coming up.  They looked at me in shock, as I had never before even hinted at cussing.  Their other set of grandparents, however, incorporated such blue language into everyday conversations with pretty much everybody, including young grandsons. 

I just smiled knowingly, and hit the gas going around the corner.  Inertia forced us to lean heavily, and the boys started to gravitate to one side of the back seat.  I yelled out, "Slide Over, Baby!"  This became a feature of our rides for years to come.

Love it!

Quote from: MiggsEye on December 28, 2017, 01:49:08 PM

Agreed. And I'm glad you emphasized that. Lately, I've been more of an observer of myself. My mannerisms. The thoughts I have that follow. The emotions traveling with them.

As far as my computer, I'd be less apt to throw it out the window if I gave it a name.

I have these two floaters, you know those things in your eye that float by in your vision that constantly irritate. At least they did for a long time until I gave them names. One I named Oscar and I'd go hello, "Hello, Oscar," whenever he'd float by. He just floated by right now. He irritates me less and less now that I'm friendly towards him.

I used to get mice in the attic of my cottage, and once a couple found their way downstairs and kept me awake by scratching under the chest-of-drawers.  While I waited for the bait to take effect, I named them Colin and Gloria after a couple of neighbours I was friendly with.  They seemed much less annoying after that.

Quote from: Gyppo on December 23, 2017, 10:07:08 PM

I always used to treat myself to a new ream of typing paper and a new ribbon.  To me that new ream was my book, all I had to do was put the words into it.  It almost felt as if half the work was already done.  The paper from that particular box was never used for anything else until the story was finished.  After that it was just general stock.  There was something very satisfying about watching the box empty and the filled pages piling up in the lid on the other side of the typewriter.


Gyppo

I love this one! I have several blank reams in my house now just waiting for me to put in the words.

Quote from: Gyppo on December 28, 2017, 12:29:20 PM
I made a screensaver which kicks in after seven minutes of inaction and scrolls an eye-popping lime-green message across the screen, "Crack on, Slacker."

I like that!

And, in all honesty, I think I may need to steal your idea and make a screensaver like that too.

(Not sure how to do that - yet! - but I'll figure it out.)