I have always believed in the importance of rituals. I don’t necessarily mean the religious kind, though they have their function as well, of course. I mean rituals that we ourselves create to mark our own, specific lives. I’ve found the how’s and when’s of writing to be especially ripe for such creations.

For example, when I start to work on a new novel I always go buy myself a new Black n Red lined notebook. I wrote about them once before here. I do the same for a new play. And although I can’t have a new notebook for each new poem, I do have a special poetry notebook where I work out new poems, even if they started out life on the back of a napkin.  I also always choose a special pencil to begin each novel. I know that by the end of 80,000 words or so, that pencil will have been worked down to its nub and replaced, but I like to start with something new. Special.  I also bring “special” pencils to the kids in my Anjali House Writing Workshop in Cambodia. Last year I found pencils with Union Jacks on them. I’m about to start hunting around for something fun for this year’s group.

The idea of all this is to set the activity aside as something special (that word again) and outside of daily life. But when I say “special” I don’t mean important in a sombre, weighty way. It’s the opposite of that. By creating a ritual around the act of writing, I want to make the writing into a treat, something wonderful that we do for ourselves, that taps into a self-indulgent sense of fun. A new notebook, a new pencil, whatever the ritual is it should be a signal that this is now something different. This is why we do all the other “non-special” tasks in our lives. We do those in order to make room for this.

My last post I wrote about finishing the first draft of novel three. I have written this novel in a different way than the other two. The other two I wrote with the help of either  a teacher or a writing group and those people were with me throughout. That worked wonderfully well for me then, but I realised early on (actually I was told by a very trustworthy friend) that now I had to do it on my own. After writing and publishing two novels, it was time to trust myself and do it without relying on the approval or disapproval of others. And that’s what I’ve done. I loved writing this way. Although scarier, for sure, it was also very liberating. But it has created a new phase in the novel writing process which I hadn’t had to do in the same way before, namely, the first big read through. In some ways this is petrifying and I know I could easily become paralysed by it. But I also know that if I create a ritual around it, I will look forward to doing it rather than shy away from it. So what’s the new ritual?

It’s always a good idea to read something you’ve written in a very different place from where you wrote it. I decided reading it in some corner of The British Library would be just the thing — you don’t get much more special than that. It’s a place I’ve never been (shame on me). I would be excited to go there. It would be a treat. What a great idea. But timing is everything, as they say, and I will be ready to do the read through just when I have to be back in the States for a series of family events, first New York, then Boston.  Well, I may not be able to go to the British Library this time, but hopefully I’ll be able to go to another couple of very special places — the New York City Library and Harvard’s Widener Library (if I can get someone to give me a pass.  Ooh, maybe I can use my SOAS connection. Now there’s a thought).

New York Public Library

Harvard’s Widener Library photo courtesy of The Harvard Crimson

I’m now really excited. I can picture myself walking in with my manuscript under my arm and sitting in the hushed august-ness that these places exude. Actually, now I can’t wait.