Wordy Wednesday: Writing and Ritual (beware of mythologising)

Writing is fraught with danger, mostly related to myth and ritual. Obviously, as a writer I love myth and mythmaking – the lure of the woods, the charm of the chosen one – but that’s not the kind of myth I mean. In this case, I mean the dangerous myths about writing itself:

  • I can only write if my desk is arranged a certain way,
  • I need complete silence/the perfect playlist aligned to my project in order to write.
  • I must start writing by 7.30 or the day is lost.
  • I wear my lucky ring to write.
  • I have a talisman on my desk which I must never lose or I’d forget how to write.
  • I can only start writing  a novel once I’ve made x amount of notes and can hear the characters talking in my head.

All of these things may help, but they are not what makes it possible for you to write – that’s you. Really, just you. Many, many writers write on trains, in chaotic cafes, at kitchen tables, in lunch breaks at day jobs – none of which allow easy access to most of these extras or props.

For a long time, I thought that I couldn’t try my hand at fiction because I’d never had the experience of a character ‘talking’ to me in my head. You read all the time of authors saying they got the idea for a story when a character made themselves known, and I believed that was the way it was supposed to be. Eventually, I saw another author I admired saying that wasn’t how they worked and I realised that it was just one possibility. I can never visualise either – can never get actual pictures into my head, so I suppose my mind just doesn’t work that way.

Coffee and notes – always useful…

The reason these stories are reported so much more in the press is because they fit with our romanticised idea of the writer as somehow special – characters pop along and talk to them as they recline on their chaise longue. The press is less keen on the ‘just get on with it’ model of writing! Obviously, writers are special – but in that, like all artists, we dedicate time to the work. There are literally hundreds of different ways of approaching that work and while it is important to identify the tricks that will make it easier for you, it’s also crucial to recognise that they are tricks and that all is not lost if you break the ornament that symbolises your current project/delete your white noise app by mistake/drop your favourite coffee mug/have to travel for work for a week.

Blog Tour: Flexing Your Creative Muscle with Maz Evans

Today, I’ve got Maz Evans here as part of her Who Let the Gods Out blog tour (see below for more on the fab Greek-mythology-based romp for 9+)

As our heartfelt New Year promises to nurture physical muscles languish at the bottom of a selection box, I propose that now is a good time to turn our attention to a different muscle – our creativity.

No, I’m not high on my gluten-free, alkaline, low-GI protein smoothie – creativity is a muscle like any other. Use it often and it will become more powerful. Let it waste and no amount of supportive underwear can help it.

Think about it. At some point in your life, maybe you’ve learned to play an instrument or taken up a sport? You weren’t born with these skills. You may have had some natural ability, but in order to fully realise it, you had to practice. The more you play the violin, the less your neighbours want to move. The more you practise your penalty shoot-outs, the fewer windows needed replacing. The more creative you are, the more creative you become.

When I run my Story Stew workshops, I always start by asking everyone if they believe themselves to be a creative, or non-creative person. Various hands go up – as does a sigh of disbelief when I tell them there is no such thing as a non-creative person. But you have to be creative to get through a day on planet Earth. You solve problems – creative. You tell stories – creative. You persuade people to do things for you – creative. You probably tell at least one lie – wrong, but creative.

Next time you’re writing a story, force your creativity to work harder. If you’re writing about a man who wants a dog, why not make him a woman? And she’s a hippo. And she actually wants a parsnip. But she lives on Jupiter where no parsnips will grow. And unless she delivers a parsnip trifle by 3pm, the Lesser-Spotted Krinkenshlob will eat her favourite orange stripy hat…

As demonstrated, you may come up with a load of rubbish. Sometimes your first idea is your best. But somewhere in the mental seed-tray, an idea might start to germinate. At the very least, now your brain is warmed up, you will make your original idea more inventive. Your brain is busy and looking for an easy solution – make it work harder.

So this February, resolve to tone up your creativity and whip your ideas into shape.

Because let’s be honest. It’s got to leave a better taste than this smoothie…


Maz Evans runs creative writing workshops for all ages. For more info visit www.maz.world.

Elliot’s mum is ill and his home is under threat, but a shooting star crashes to earth and changes his life forever. The star is Virgo – a young Zodiac goddess on a mission. But the pair accidentally release Thanatos, a wicked death daemon imprisoned beneath Stonehenge, and must then turn to the old Olympian gods for help. After centuries of cushy retirement on earth, are Zeus and his crew up to the task of saving the world – and solving Elliot’s problems too?

Who Let the Gods Out is Waterstones’ Children’s Book of the Month for February and is out now from Chicken House.