Good Teachers

We got two kittens, Birdie and Henry, shortly before Christmas, both whom have recently decided that the best place to be first thing in the morning is my lap – which would be fine if that wasn’t also when I do all my best writing. I could boot them out of my office, of course – and I have – but they are persistent, sitting outside my door mewing and reaching one of their little paws under the door. I’m a soft touch, so I let them back in, and up they hop. It’s nice to feel wanted, if this is what’s actually happening here, but I’m a creature of habit, and it has long been my habit to write alone, as free as possible from any distractions.

Though I think of Graeme Simsion, who keeps himself so busy travelling to conferences and book signings that he told me he has to do most of his writing on airplanes. For that matter, Cory Doctorow claimed he wrote one novel largely while sitting on the floor of airport gates, an experience that convinced him his special cup of tea and scented candle and meditative silence were not, as he had previously believed, necessary to hear his Muse. Listening to these two authors describe their flexible writing schedules, I knew they had become aware of a universal, creative truth that I nonetheless hoped never to have to fully discover for myself.  

Birdie and Henry are apparently doing their best to teach me what Simsion and Doctorow learned from extensive air travel. As distractions go, purring kittens are as close to the inner hum of the creative engine as I can imagine. They are so still, so relaxed, so present, so at peace that if I become engrossed in my story it is easy enough to forget they are there. It’s as if the kittens and I have melded into one another. I’ve wondered if where I go energetically when I write makes my lap an attractive destination for them. It’s certainly an attractive destination for me.

For the record, I’ve written this entire essay in Birdie and Henry’s company. It wasn’t any different than writing it without them. They are good teachers. If a cat knows anything, it’s how to be relaxed and focus on the present moment, the very place where all writing occurs. The writing doesn’t happen at the desk or on an airplane or in a terminal gate, it always happens in the same place for every writer, as soon as they bring their attention to where they truly are.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com