I am not the sort of disciplined writer who has a specific time set aside to write. The day that I’m at my computer as soon as I wake up is a day that hasn’t come. Many writers seize the day when it’s still in its infancy; I seize it mid-afternoon, when it’s a teenager, or late at night, when it’s a senior citizen looking for its slippers.
But this is one thing I’ve learned as a writer: whatever works for you works for you. The compulsion to tell a story needs no rules other than the rules that help get the story told. Some writers play mood music. Some like to chant affirmations: “Today I will work on my novel that will win the Nobel prize and sell 3 billion copies – in hardcover.” Some program their coffee maker to produce a pot of Bolivian dark roast at dawn. Others open their freezer, where they’ve been chilling a bottle of gin.
But if none of those rituals get you to that computer or legal pad or embossed journal, find your own. Sing “Wild Horses” by the Rolling Stones, or “Happy Trails” by Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. Rub your palms together until they’re hot. Stand in ‘Tree Pose.’ Sit outside a bakery and inhale. Walk your dog. Then tell the story you want to tell.