(New blog post about finding writing inspiration under a refreshing shower – an electric power shower, I mean, not English autumn rainfall!)
Grabbing a quick shower yesterday morning while my husband walked my daughter to school, my cares fell away.
My conscience was clear: my part of the early morning duties were complete:
- breakfast prepared – check
- school lunchbox packed – check
- daughter’s hair brushed and plaited – check
- her purse topped up with a pound coin for after-school Film Club – check
For a moment I could let my busy head empty as I got myself ready for work.
At least, I thought I was letting my mind just wander, but after a few moments basking with my eyes closed, I suddenly realised that flowing into my head as steadily as the water was pouring from the shower head was a whole stream (groan) of ideas for various articles I was scheduled to write over the next few days:
- two book reviews (the first has since hit the ether here)
- the theme for this month’s parish magazine column (now on paper)
- the gist of my piece for the November issue of the Tetbury Advertiser (emailed to the editor this morning)
So quickly and easily were these ideas coming, from somewhere deep within my subconscious, that I was tempted to spend the rest of the day in the shower. At this rate, I could have written a three-inch thick novel by tea-time.
But I had to head for the office of reading charity Readathon, where I spend my weekday mornings, so I cut my shower short at 15 minutes.
Short? I hear you cry. My husband complains that even 15 minutes is far too long, though it’s nothing compared to my daughter’s record of 45 minutes. (I’d never seen anyone enjoy a shower lying down, until she did.)
Even so, considering my mind had felt drained when I stepped into the shower, I was pleased with the result – and I don’t mean just being squeaky-clean.
It had been a bit like taking a restorative nap. Although I can never sleep during the day, I’m a great believer in sleeping on a problem. Rather than lie there fretting in the dark, I recommend going to bed with the unsolved challenge lodged firmly at the back of your mind, and leaving it to stew the night away. Very often, on waking, I find the problem’s been solved, as if someone’s whispered it in my ear while I was out for the count.
Which makes me wonder what miracles of creativity I could perform if I went into hibernation. If it gets much colder this weekend, I think I’ll give it a try.
If you liked this piece, you might be interested in these posts about different kinds of power: