Today, I have fourteen hours of travel via two connecting flights to get me to London.
I love to travel. I love the new experiences it brings me and the new sources of inspiration it lands at my door, but more than that, I love the quiet uninterrupted time to write.
There aren’t many things to do on a plane. Sure, there’s food and drink, and now movies on demand and a hundred different kinds of music, but there’s also that wonderful quiet time when everyone’s trying to sleep and those of us unable to rest while travelling can write with abandon. I have no idea why writers like to work late into night when more sensible folks have turned in – maybe it’s the peace, or perhaps just getting so caught in the flow of your work that you completely forget the hour.
Trains are even better for writing. Of course, you usually don’t get the sleeping phase (at least not in Europe, anyway), but there are fewer distractions, usually only one disturbance from the conductor and then left to write. You have to hunt for the food and there aren’t often films available, unless you’ve brought the laptop along, so it’s a great time to write.
The one drawback to this, if you don’t have laptop or PDA with you, is that you need to write up all of these creations when you get home. I’m a fast typist, but I hate the constant change of head angle and the repetition of writing up what is already written when my heart wants to race on to the next part and the next.
Still, travelling is a great time to write, and so I hope to knock out a couple of thousand words on the way home today.