Writing in an Unfamiliar Setting
By Sophie Masson | July 10, 2017 |
I spent a month in Cambridge (UK) in May/June. It was a magical time to be there–the weather was sunny, bright, warmer in fact than I’ve ever known it in England. :-) Cambridge, always a beautiful city, looked even more stunning set against the bright blue of the sky, with flowers rioting everywhere and people in light summer clothes strolling by the river banks.
But I wasn’t only there on holiday; I was there to write. Working on my PhD in Creative Practice (which means I’m basically in the happy position of writing a novel plus an academic exegesis–a kind of mini-thesis), I was also in Cambridge as a ‘Visiting Scholar’ in the Children’s Literature Centre based within the Faculty of Education and Homerton College, which meant I could use University facilities, including the libraries, as I wished. And my time there was extraordinarily productive, despite or actually perhaps because of the many cultural, historical and natural pleasures Cambridge and its environs has to offer–and which I fully indulged in.
I worked on the second draft of the novel, added to the exegesis, wrote two short stories, and delivered both a seminar paper and a conference paper. The working environment was perfect, it must be said. Sitting at a desk in the pleasant faculty library, looking out at a lovely peaceful garden complete with the occasional visit from deer and squirrels, was a perfect spot to get into the writing mode; but so was the table in the upstairs flat we rented a block from the city center, where you could watch the world go by on their bicycle. The atmosphere of Cambridge itself is immensely conducive to both thought and relaxation; both lively and laid-back, it has an energy that feels both creative yet peaceful. And it got me thinking about how working in an unfamiliar setting, away from home, affects a writer’s work.
For me, it’s something absolutely necessary, now and again. I need to get away, far away, to recharge batteries, to be in a place I don’t know but that is full of interesting things. It feels like the green sap rising; like a refreshing drink on a hot day, with my mind and heart open and all senses prickling with awareness. Being away has often resulted, for me, in new insights, new ideas, and reinvention of old ones. Of course it doesn’t always work: The atmosphere can be wrong, life can intervene, stresses can happen. But by and large, for me it’s been a positive thing. Yet I know that for some other writers, being away from home can have the opposite effect. They need to have familiar things around them, to work in tranquility un-distracted by new experiences; not to do so can shrivel the creative urge for them.
Here, from my own experience, are a few things I’ve learned to help minimize stress and make the away-from-your-desk experience as creatively rich as possible.
- Don’t force yourself into the same writing routine as at home, but do set aside specific days to write. Be ready to be flexible if necessary.
- Don’t buy a new computer just to take away. Best to have the one you normally use; its familiarity helps the creative muscles fall into their natural pattern.
- Take a short walk even on writing days.
- Work facing a nice view if possible.
- Allow your new surroundings to infuse into your work but don’t feel obliged to use it overtly.
- Give yourself time to enjoy your surroundings, and don’t feel guilty if a holiday feeling creeps over you–that sense of relaxation can actually help to free up new ideas. And if it doesn’t–well, you will have had a holiday and that’s, as the saying goes, as good as a rest!
Over to you–what are your experiences of writing away from home?
Born in Indonesia of French parents, and brought up in France and Australia, Sophie Masson is the award-winning author of over 70 books for children, young adults and adults. Her latest books include Sydney under Attack (children’s historical novel, Scholastic Australia, 2022) A Hundred Words for Butterfly (adult novella, ES-Press, 2022) and Cock-a-doodle-doo (children’s picture book, (illustrated by Kathy Creamer, little Pink Dog Books, 2022). In 2019, Sophie received an AM (Member, General Division) award in the Order of Australia honours list.
Congratulations of your amazing productivity in Cambridge, Sophie! It sounds like an inspiring place to write, just to simply enjoy. I have to say, your picture of the river with its bridge and river boats makes me imagine what it would be like to write from a room with a view of that!
You’ve got me thinking about travel and writing because I have a fixed routine and it’s rare I travel at all. That said, I go to one of many coffee shops here in Winnipeg to write every morning and find each one offers something different. Relating to your second last tip, I get immersed in the setting, simple as it is — the people coming and going, the bustle of a new day for everyone — but find once I start writing I enter a kind of Zen where the world is secondary.
I can write in solitude and quiet without a view. One of the best chapters I’ve ever written I did at my kitchen table from 11pm-5am unbroken, in quiet–there really was so much going on emotionally for me in that experience it felt like I was on an adventure and not just sitting at the table. But I do find in the day after day push to always write, no matter what, going somewhere special really helps me feel balance.
Speaking of which, it’s 6:47 and time to head off for my day of writing. Hmm…where to go? You’ve given me a new angle to consider! Thanks so much and all the best in your writing and exegesis.
Thank you, John for your great response–glad you enjoyed the post, and that it has given you a new angle, hope it proves fruitful!
The last vacation I took was over five years ago, at the beach, and I ended up writing three novellas and gaining insight to the novel that was giving me fits. I found working in the morning (part of my “home” routine) and then spending the day on the beach and working again at night, really allowed the creativity to flow.
Maybe someday I’ll get to Cambridge!
How are we not supposed to hate you?
As a family man (variously babysitter, mentor, sugar daddy) vacations are not time off or writing retreats. I resent them.
Except of course that concentrated time with my family is real not fictional and an occasional joy that makes everything else pale by comparison.
In truth, my writing hours in coffee bars are enviable. I have spent many hours in the world’s great libraries and best bookstores, too. I can’t complain.
So I guess I forgive you. Barely. But seriously, congrats, enjoy, and thanks for sharing a few tips on how to enjoy heaven.
:-) Thank you!
I’ve taken writing vacations at two extremes.
I’ve stayed at a friend’s lake house in the middle of February in Michigan, just my husband and I, snow knee-deep on the unplowed driveway and still blowing out of the gray clouds, nothing to do but write, eat, and feed logs into the fireplace. And coffee. So much coffee.
And I’ve attended the Women’s Fiction Writers Association writing retreat in Albuquerque, NM, lounging on the patio in the dry heat that hovers between the parched land and the clear blue sky, surrounded by friends who are also writing, breaking for sweating drinks as evening comes on.
They are both magical to me. I get so much good work done.
Great tips here.
Last year my vacation collided with a freelance assigment. Every couple of days or so I’d hide out and work while my family splashed around in the pool. It wasn’t so bad. I was on vacation.
Twice I was in Cambridge, for short summer courses. It’s a risky place to spend time. At least it was for me. Being in Cambridge twice for three weeks called into question all the years I’d spent anywhere else. You have to see, smell and hear it to believe it. The whole idea of writing anything there–for me–would have been laughable.
On the second trip, one day my wife and I walked along the Cam (river), from Cambridge to Grantchester. A light rain was falling, and we were covered by cheap hooded plastic ponchos packed for the purpose. We passed through stiles that kept cattle from leaving their pasture, and just then, rounding some trees came an English couple. Those old enough to remember “Monte Python’s Flying Circus” will be able to visualize the next moment. The English couple were dressed identically: waxed cotton field coats, deer stalker hats, jodhpurs and Wellingtons. They were talking but now saw us, stopped and stared. Both the man and woman sucked in air, a sound of amazed horror, then hurried on. They had seen something unacceptable to consciousness–serfs from the Middle Ages, from America. I treasure the memory.
You make me want to go to Cambridge to hang out, if not to write. I find being with family usually keeps me from writing anything substantial. I work to keep up with my near daily journal and I write short pieces, often poems or haiku, that keep me thinking about the details around me and the joy of language. There have been times when we’ve been on beach vacations where cooking and transportation are not my responsibility and I’ve been able to concentrate on bigger projects. I write my first drafts by hand (I write picture book texts and poetry) so my work is fairly portable. And I get lots of ideas when I am not in my usual settings. My husband is retired and has been bitten by the travel bug so I am creating the possibility of being able to be productive while traveling. I haven’t totally figured it out yet, but I intend to see travel as an enhancement to my creative process, not an interruption.
Hi, Sophie:
Funny, my “writing while away” experience, though as productive as yours, acquired that status by being utterly different in kind.
My in-laws have a house outside Bergen, Norway, and my wife and I joined her parents there over Christmas. I was in the final gauntlet of the novel. There was an eight-hour difference in time zones between home in California and Norway, so the jet lag was considerable. And at that time of year, days are very short. Whole lotta darkness going on. And it only snowed once, so by and large the days were overcast and ainy. (The one day it snowed, I was so absorbed in my writing I simply thought it was hazy outside as I looked out the dining room picture window where I stationed myself to write. Only when my wife woke up and looked outside — she spent her early years in Norway, and still associates Christmas with snow — did I realize, given her stunned and ecstatic single word, “Snow!” did I realize what had been happening all those hours I’d been awake.
As opposed to letting the foreign setting recharge my batteries, I took advantage of its darkness, its silence. I would wake up at 2 AM, everyone else asleep, and just be too alert to go back to bed. So I made a pot of coffee, fired up the computer, and often got as much as 8 hours of work in before anyone else got up. I sat at the dining room table, and though there was a picture window (with a marvelous view of the lake) I couldn’t see much of anything because it was for all intents and purpose nighttime.
It ended up working out beautifully. But that’s not to say I don’t envy your sojourn in Cambridge in spring.
Wonderful post. Thanks!
Sounds like a wonderful trip, Sophie! On the rare occasions we’ve had vacation (usually only a couple of days), I tend to wake up much earlier than anyone else. Out comes the notebook and pen. I’m usually able to get in a couple of hours of something done, and I like to write with paper and ink as a change.