Rituals
My wife always dresses professionally for work, even when she’s working in her home office. When office hours end, she changes clothes and hangs out. That’s her ritual for offsetting work and leisure.
I tend to look like a bum most days, and I doubt that’ll change. I like being comfortable too much. But I have rituals, and one in particular has become vital as I work on this book.
The emotions involved in my writing lately have necessitated a fence between what I feel when I’m working and what I experience for the rest of my day. If I don’t do that, I’ll be a mess when I need to be collected. It’s one thing to cry uncontrollably at the keyboard, but most day-to-day activities require more composure.
I use musical cues. When I sit down to work on this book, I get myself settled, reference where I was the day before and what I plan on creating today, then play Max Richter’s “On the Nature of Daylight.” That’s my cue to open the floodgates. But when I’m done? George Michael’s “Freedom! ’90,” baby. A high-flying anthem of personal liberation that tells me I don’t have to be held down in the muck of human emotions. I can be myself and live my life again.
Most writers have rituals of some sort or another. I’m sure you do, too. Sometimes they’re a comfort, sometimes they encourage us, and other times they protect us, but they are of value.