DAILY RITUALS #7

VANESSA:

Rituals?
Oh those things we do each day?
Well you’re asking a Cancerian who’s also a writer, so we’ve got rituals and superstitions and funny little habits coming out our arse. Wait you didn’t  say superstitions did you? But they’re one and the same for us C.Ws ...

So ... I walk every morning and I walk the same time or thereabouts and I wear the same cap with a picture of the old Paddington showground clock tower on it because … remember your roots my dears … and so I also walk the same route or thereabouts because I don’t want to have to think too hard about where I’m going you know, I just want to go. I want to step and breathe and step and breathe, past the big sign with the time and the temperature which, oddly, is different depending which side you come at it, step and breathe, step and breathe and this is good, this rhythm without thought, because then maybe after all the other fearful, angry, horrible, negative, boring thoughts have passed maybe then there will be one of those other thoughts, you know the kind, yeah? The creative thought. The nub, the seed, the smile, the baby play.

And plus sometimes I might be walking towards the racecourse just as a horse gallops past and those hooves just fly and in my mind I think something good is gonna happen and just saying it may even make it happen and then that becomes a sort of demented Kate Bush earworm until I get to the pub on the corner. I walk over the old bricks and I think of paved rues in Paris and if I see anything important like a coin (all day long you have good luck) or a hair band or a rubber band I will pick those up because I am, in truth, the Good Little Girl in the Baba Yaga story and you never know when anything will come in handy.

Any think.
I cross the big road and walk the opposite way towards the sign which I now assume is the wrong time (or perhaps it was wrong when I started and only now is it telling the truth) and the wrong temperature so for instance it may be saying it’s hot when I am definitely still cold and back past the magnolias and the dog that barks too loud and back past the tree containing all the nerf guns and nerf bullets that my child and a neighbourhood child have painstakingly tied into the branches. And then I might water the garden because again plant growth is a sign of good things. I look at the fish in the pond. I sweep things. I strain the keffir. I make porridge (and if it’s on the stove as opposed to hurriedly flung in the microwave that leads to a whole lot more ritual of stirring) or muesli and I always polish Tricky’s school shoes. I might ride on my bike with Tricky to school or maybe walk with him and I love that even at age nine he still holds my hand as we walk and talk and finally finally I am back at the computer with a cup of coffee and read to start proper writing at about 10am.

DAILY RITUALS #6

NOËLLE:

I’m OCD and I’m anarchy. I’m beeswax and let it go.

Up with the lark, then take it slow—

Mostly Assam, occasionally green.

Breakfast is the most explicit meal.

I’m up and I’m down. Semi-colons and train-wreck TV.

Reminder: the task in hand is worth ten in the bush—

Good idea …  a walk round the block.

Spellcheck the weeds, that moth with waiting wings

(Not all moths are nocturnal)

There I am again. Sucked in by the archival stare of the rare book room

(digitised for offsite access)

Or distractions from the stockpile of unnecessary knowledge.

Concentration like eggshells except when it’s not.

Shall I Glad Wrap^® or maybe afternoon nap?

Paul Klee said to draw a picture was to take a line for a walk.

I’m reasonably diligent, but sometimes not.
And I’m really not sure about all this sharing …

DAILY RITUALS #5

DONNA:

I used to practice bad solitude - avoidance, dread, distraction, fear, repetition and self-loathing. I had no problem getting to my desk every day, but being present, productive and creative while I sat there was another story. Writing is open-ended space-time, an unmapped wilderness, and without some sort of structure, some sort of kind scaffolding, some way of dealing with the part of me that was too terrified to write, I could and did get horribly lost. 

To cultivate good solitude, I have put together a suite of rituals and reminders which help me to prepare physically and mentally for my writing day. Not necessarily all done on the same day, they include: a ritual cleaning and claiming of the writing space (especially after the completion of a project), a yoga sequence called the 5 Tibetans, meditation to clear the mind and direct attention, pranayama to activate the brain, the reciting of an intention, and some Focusing to tune into body wisdom. As I work, I find it helpful to drink coffee, then lady grey tea, then green tea because, like shifting through gears, this sequence signals a progression, hopefully, from sleepiness to deep involvement in what I am working on. To counter the effects of sitting all day, I try to do a yoga pose every time I get up from my desk. If go for a jog or walk about 3pm, get some sun and bird action along the Cook’s River, and a coffee and complementary chocolate from Adora’s Cafe, I usually have the energy to do a second shift that afternoon or evening if need be. 

To turbo charge the cultivation of good solitude, every now and then, I adapt a practice used by playwright Suzan-Lori Parks. In 2002, Parks had a plan: 

"The plan was that no matter what I did, how busy I was, what other commitments I had, I would write a play a day, every single day for a year. It would be about being present and being committed to the artistic process every single day, regardless of the 'weather.' It became a daily meditation, a daily prayer celebrating the rich and strange process of a writing life." Suzan-Lori Parks

Writing a play a day is an exercise in devotion. It is not a a discipline or boot camp, but love and commitment in action, similar perhaps to a mystic’s spiritual exercises - well, we are contemplatives after all. Each day for one month, after some grounding exercises like yoga and meditation and Focusing, I write a play in one sitting. I write at speed, accepting everything that comes without judgement. I write by hand, on scrap paper, and keep my pen moving quickly until a voice or scenario emerges, becomes a play in the broadest sense of the word, and I write until a resolution forms. I end up with a suite of plays, astonishing and confronting ones, some of which have gone on to be performed or become part of a larger work. But more importantly, for one month, I wrote in a way that was inclusive, kind and quick. I practiced showing up and letting go, acceptance and completion, and strengthened the inner muscles of courage and trust. It is not an easy ritual. It requires a peculiar internal stamina and does dredge up your psychological beasties. I am currently completing a doctoral thesis, and the minute it is off my desk, I will do another play a day project to abandon the stranglehold of academic language, return to my love of linguistic plasticity and equivocation and metaphor, and restore a creative playfulness which is all too easy to lose. 

Donna 

DAILY RITUALS #4

CATH:

I woke up this morning thinking ‘I don’t have any rituals’. I am not a superstitious person. I don’t need to have my favourite pen or any material thing for that matter or a time of day that I should set out. But I realise I do have one ritual - I simply try to be kind to myself and wade into my art gently. I think to myself ‘okay all you have to do is re-read, or write down a few ideas’. I also tell myself it really doesn’t matter if the world ever witnesses this work. This however is an absolute lie because I want the world for my work as all creative people do. But this takes the pressure off so I can fully focus and usually by going into it gently I soon become immersed.

What I love about creating it arrives whatever the given circumstances, for instance migraines that meant I couldn’t look at a computer screen but could lie flat with the ideas, images and dialogue coming to me without even willing them on. I believe when you can cultivate the inner resources to be creative there is a constant renewal of energy no matter what sort of metaphorical dark room you are in.

The main thing for me is to follow my intuition on what art form to work in so I can try to thrill myself each day. I paint, make assemblages and sculpt as well as write. Lately tormented clay figures have emerged and I have no idea why but I’m just following them and seeing what it tells me and now I must sign off because I really need to see what happens next...Thank you.

DAILY RITUALS #3

HILARY:

20 minutes yoga.

20 minutes meditation.

Breakfast and animal-feeding, farewells and cleaning-up.

And then around 9 am the day’s work begins. I try really hard to limit admin to an hour, but this rarely happens. As a freelancer, much of my time is spent answering emails, pursuing work, taking care of issues connected with the work I have, and of course all the other stuff of daily life.

Ideally, I then turn off the internet at the wall. It depends if anyone else is in the house and needs it on. Usually, they are. So then I have to exert massive will-power to avoid the Procrastinator’s Joy: jumping online at the least provocation - to check emails, check tomorrow’s weather, find out what those twins from kindy are doing these days.

To combat this, I try to set myself a goal of what I need to do, writing-wise, that day. I work fuelled by a constant stream of tea (and thus, many trips to the bathroom). Depending on the particular project, and also what stage of development it’s at, I’ll work differently. If it’s verse or lyrics, I write longhand. I like to be able to see my crossings-out, and make lists of rhymes down the side of the page. Same with notes on a new idea – something about the looseness and physicality and intimacy of writing longhand feels right. If I’m ready to write a draft, and if I’m doing rewrites, it’s generally straight to the computer.

Often, I’ll be working on more than one project simultaneously, so I’ll divide the time, giving a couple of hours to each. And throughout the day, I’ll pause to do bits of housework like hanging up laundry... I used to think this was avoidance, but now I believe it’s a useful part of the process. I remember Verity once called these ‘smoothing actions’, which makes me think of a cat clawing its blanket as it turns in circles before finally settling down.

I need to get out of the house at some point and move. If I need to clear my head, I jump on my bicycle and do errands. If I’m still working, I like to walk. I can think better like that, plus it’s easy to stop and write things down. Quiet residential streets, back lanes – no shops, too distracting.

I stop around 3 pm, when the kids get home. Later on, I might do more work in the evening if it needs to be done, or if I’m feeling inspired.

We interrupt this programme of Daily Rituals with an urgent newsflash:

BIG CONGRATS TO DONNA ABELA, AWGIE WINNER FOR BEST PLAY OF 2015 'JUMP FOR JORDAN'!!!

DAILY RITUALS #2

NED:

Rituals.
When I eventually sit down to work, by that I mean writing, I do indeed have certain well worn rituals.
It's getting there that creates problems. Like getting here created problems. Getting to write this Blog. My technical neanderthalness results in frustrating meanderings, often into dead ends. It also results in me inventing words that are ungrammatical and don't exist. Like "neanderthalness".
I wrote my first play on an Olivetti typewriter. I guess that says it all.
There was brief moment in my life when I did have a writing ritual in that I wrote at the same time every day. I was on Long Service Leave, therefore receiving a salary, and started writing at 930am and finished at 330pm. Every day. It was bliss.
Now I'm back to juggling writing hours with kids commitments, teaching, auditions, acting jobs, moving (again) and all the other things that seem to consume my life.
There is no ritual in terms of when I write. I grab time whenever I can.
However, when I finally do grab precious time I do have writing rituals.
I begin by plugging in my headphones and choosing the music that I feel best suits my mood or what I'm writing. For instance I'm currently writing a female character so I listen to everyone from Missy Higgins to Joni Mitchell. I listen to lyricists in the vain hope that some of their genius will find its way into the work I am writing. It's not plagiarism, as such, it's more cosmic than that. It's, like, my version of the absorption method. I hope I will absorb some of Leonard Cohen's genius and produce my own.
Having chosen appropriate inspirational music, I begin work with a cup of coffee as a security blanket.
When the coffee is drunk I transfer to chewing gum. I'm told I look like a jersey cow when I'm in the zone. Or at least I chomp away like one. I might also start bouncing on the exercise ball (is that what its called?) I sit on. I bounce when the music gets me bouncing. Usually rock and roll. Don't ask. You'll think I'm a troglodyte as well as being hamstrung by neanderthalness.
So there I go. Chomping, bouncing, typing.
I avoid emails and social media like the plague. I disappear into the world of whatever I am writing and emerge when its time for one of the kids soccer training or for me to cook dinner. Or whatever it is.
I do like the early morning. 5am. That's when I produce my best work. The trouble is that I can only squeeze a few hours in with early morning work commitments and family duties and getting up at 5 requires more discipline than I am currently capable of exhibiting.
I am hopeless at night. I so admire those people who sit down after dinner and write for a few hours. I'm too buggered by then to do anything but drink beer and read. Not a lot of beer. One or two.
Mmm…maybe that's part of the problem. Maybe. It's a ritual I enjoy though.
Actually, now I write this it's a  wonder I ever get any writing done.
When I do I fall into a pretty basic ritual but it works for me.
If only I could practice it more often.

DAILY RITUALS #1

VERITY:

The 7-On-ers have been inspired by a book we heard about recently: here it comes, a good old plug!

: http://dailyroutines.typepad.com/daily_routines/2013/03/daily-routines-the-blog-is-now-daily-rituals-the-book.html

It is a new book, by Mason Currey, that, amongst other things, documents the rituals of writers, artists and others. It's a great read.

We thought we might, at the risk, of course, of Too Much Information, try a short telling of our own rituals. Maybe a few others out there might want to reply with offerings of their/your own?

I (this is Verity) have been dobbed in as first cab off the rank.

Ahem.

Wake up. Wish I was still asleep. There are two never-fail brilliant moments in any day. One is when the head hits the pillow at night. The  other is…oh joy! Breakfast. Get up.

Am I doing yoga this morning? There has been recent trouble with The Back, owing to recent trouble with The Foot. TMI alert? Enuff.

Yoga does mean delaying one of the Two Regular Joys, but yoga is a Near-Joy, not to mention borderline essential for a neurasthenic writer. So I do the requisite half an hour. Carefully.

Regular Joy time. Anyone who has stayed at my place will know about The Good Breakfast. For that small proportion of the known universe who hasn’t, and thus doesn’t, just bide your time. You’ll get your chance when you need a bed in South Australia.

If I am a truly lucky woman on any particular day I start working right after The Good Breakfast. But I need order these days, so I rarely do. I have a series of tasks – could these be rituals I’m asking myself? – like journal keeping, finance check, a fair whack of wiping down of surfaces, two lots of newspapers – that require my attention: and, like everyone living in the 21^st century I probably check my emails when really – they could wait.

Before The Foot, I walked for half an hour, too, which was a beautiful source of calming and gathering. These days I have to swim instead, though not every day. The main benefit of swimming is maybe of a little less use to a writer, but…not bad either. The Good Thing about swimming is that it’s a mood booster and as my current work is all about extreme darkness, then maybe that’s closer to an Excellent Thing and a sign of careful attention from a benevolent universe. Everything is meaningful in my universe, to the irritation of about 90% of friends and acquaintances. I just can’t seem to shake the sensation that there’s a purpose here somewhere, even when it’s clear that there can’t be.

And where’s the writing in this? It clocks in about now. I can write anywhere, at any time, no matter what the distractions, if I have to. It’s the result of years of being in a situation when it was write like that, or not write at all.

I am an obsessive gatherer. My computer, my bookshelves, my notebooks, my house, my sheds all hold reams of research on the subjects of all my plays, which I retain for the period when I’m working on the piece and then am as uninformed as anyone else on the topic the moment the play has been completed. Except that I still have the notes to send you if you are foolish enough to express an interest…and I do know where to find them!

So on any given day I might be working on that research. Or I might be lucky enough to be actually writing. And it might be going well. And words might come from I don’t know where and I might like them. That day. And reject them the next. But it’s fun while it lasts. An Elusive, as opposed to a Reliable Joy. But it’s the one that counts, and the one that I seem to have given my life to.