Dangers On The Train

For a lot of those who write, writing in public is apparently the thing to do. I'm not going to be cynical and say that anyone who does that is just doing it to be seen doing it, but some people who write in public are doing it precisely for that reason. I can't say I blame them entirely. We're fed a lot of romantic stories about writing in Parisian cafes and Irish pubs, and it rubs off on me as much as anyone. It's not really for me, though.

I'd love to have a story about jotting down my first novel on napkins at a coffee shop like JK Rowling apparently did, but the only thing I'd be putting down on those napkins would be coffee stains. There are a number of problems for me. First of all, I get antsy in a hurry when I'm in a place of business where my sole ostensible reason for being there is drinking coffee. I'd drink one, doing more of that than writing, and after that was exhausted I'm sure I'd feel like I should leave instead of loitering.

Secondly, when I'm away from my own home, I no longer have control over distractions. I can shut down more or less all visual and aural stimuli in my bedroom, and I have to because I'm very susceptible to it. My mind will seize on any thing it can to get away from the hard thinking that it takes to get actual writing done. As I think I said the other day (if not in so many words), my writing process is a lot like the recovery process for a concussed football player.

As I write this though, I'm on a train bound for San Diego. I'm getting by in writing this, so I must not be as hamstrung by being in public as I thought, but I still think that I work a lot more slowly for all the things to look at and listen to. Am I perhaps finding any inspiration in the setting? It may be so, but it doesn't balance out the inconvenience of distractions nearly enough to make it worthwhile. I'd much rather be locked up in a cell to do this.