Malinda Lo

Last week I discovered the most amazing blog: Daily Routines. If you’ve ever wondered how writers or musicians or other creative types spend their days, this is where it’s at.

Reading through some of these entries made me realize that procrastination, taking long walks, and having cocktails beginning at 11 a.m. are totally normal.

It’s also a great comfort to me to discover that pretty much nobody works in the afternoon — afternoons are for procrastinating, walking, drinking, or socializing. Just ask Simone de Beauvoir:

“I’m always in a hurry to get going, though in general I dislike starting the day. I first have tea and then, at about ten o’clock, I get under way and work until one. Then I see my friends and after that, at five o’clock, I go back to work and continue until nine.”

Reading through the writers’ routines has also revealed that we like to trick ourselves into being creative geniuses by little rituals. You can be hardcore about it, like Haruki Murakami:

“When I’m in writing mode for a novel, I get up at 4:00 am and work for five to six hours. In the afternoon, I run for 10km or swim for 1500m (or do both), then I read a bit and listen to some music. I go to bed at 9:00 pm. I keep to this routine every day without variation. The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism.”

But I like Toni Morrison’s description best:

“Recently I was talking to a writer who described something she did whenever she moved to her writing table. I don’t remember exactly what the gesture was–there is something on her desk that she touches before she hits the computer keyboard–but we began to talk about little rituals that one goes through before beginning to write. I, at first, thought I didn’t have a ritual, but then I remembered that I always get up and make a cup of coffee and watch the light come. And she said, Well, that’s a ritual. And I realized that for me this ritual comprises my preparation to enter a space I can only call nonsecular… Writers all devise ways to approach that place where they expect to make the contact, where they become the conduit, or where they engage in this mysterious process. For me, light is the signal in the transaction. It’s not being in the light, it’s being there before it arrives. It enables me, in some sense.”

My daily routine varies from week to week, depending on what I’m working on. When I’m writing a first draft, I’ve found to my chagrin that I can only write for a few hours. I try to make myself write in the morning, 9-12, and then spend the afternoon doing administrative stuff, walking, sending email.

Of course, I am utterly and pathetically unsuccessful in resisting the allure of the internet while I’m writing. I usually encounter an irresistible urge to check my email and/or read the news and/or hunt for Lost spoilers whenever I don’t know what to write. It could be plain old word choice that’s bothering me — red or crimson, for example; was she shocked or surprised? Or it could be a much bigger issue, like OMG I have no idea who this character is! What the hell would she say in this situation?

Whatever the mini-block is, it is overpowering. Ten minutes later, I discover that I’m reading a long article about the demonic blue horse statue outside Denver International Airport, and I wonder: What the hell just happened? Then I return to my writing and realize that, ah, I had a mini-block.

If I’m revising, I can work for longer. I build up momentum as I reach the end of the stuff I’m revising, until I work on it all day (except for a short break for lunch — I never forget to eat). My mini-blocks decrease; I feel like I’m a train accelerating through an increasingly familiar landscape. But by the end of the day, my mind is jelly. After an intense period of revision, I have to take several days off because I simply cannot form complete sentences anymore.

The one thing that doesn’t change is my pre-writing ritual. I always meditate before I begin writing. I just sit for 15 minutes, and I time myself with this automatic bell. I began meditating several years ago, and it has changed my life. To borrow from Toni Morrison’s words, meditation enables me to be in the story before it arrives.

This week, I’m taking a little break from fiction to work on a couple of articles I have due. That requires an entirely different kind of routine … generally involving listening to cheesy dance music. So now I’m off to, uh, make a dance mix. Here’s to a great week!