Writing in the Nude from James W. Ziskin

February can be a bleak month. How do you overcome periods of lethargy and re-energize yourself creatively and otherwise? 

I love bleak weather. For writing, moods inspire, and what provides instant mood better than weather? Maybe music? Okay, for inspiration I also use music.

I would argue that the winter months are better for writing than other times of the year, and not just because we find ourselves trapped inside with nothing better to do. We could go skiing or shovel the walk, after all. No, being trapped inside is not why. Rather, it’s because we love warmth. We happily fold ourselves in layer after layer of clothing and blankets to keep warm. Yes, we love the warmth, but only in contrast to the cold. No one loves sweating on a sultry summer night, do they? Of course not. Certainly not me. In summer, I’m a fan of closed windows and air conditioning. No sweat, no mosquitoes, no humidity. I like to be freeze-dried, desiccated like a Slim Jim or an Egyptian mummy. But on a cold winter’s evening? Bring on the heat! A roaring fire in the hearth comforts and cossets. It provokes those delicious, cozy tremors of contentment. Like a drowsy cat, stretching each thew and sinew to its ticklish limit, before—satisfied—it slips back into slumber’s warm embrace.

Damn it. Now I want to take a nap instead of writing.

Beware of falling into that trap. Stay vigilant. The goal is comfort, not coma. 

For winter writing, follow these instructions. Your results may vary.

1. Dress appropriately. Acceptable clothing might include a cardigan sweater, roomy pants, slippers, and warm socks. Not wool. That will itch. And no argyle, for God’s sake. You’re not a British fop, are you? (Apologies to our resident Scot, Catriona.)

2. Turn the thermostat to 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Not Celsius, you idiot, or you’ll regret it. Rather, your next of kin will regret it, because 72 degrees Celsius will kill you.

3. You may, if you swing that way, write in the nude, but I can’t recommend it. No one wants to read that kind of filth, you pervert.

4. Pour yourself a piping-hot cup of coffee or tea, but not cocoa. That will put you to sleep, and it’s the whole cat thing again. And, since your cuppa is a piping-hot liquid, must I repeat my admonition against writing in the nude? Blisters…

5. Find some good music to set the mood. Nothing too soft or—again—you’ll be nodding off before you know it. Me? I like Bach. It’s jaunty and has a metronomic quality that keeps my fingers typing even when my mind is wandering and wondering if the greats of the Golden Age ever wrote in the nude. Certainly not Dorothy Sayers.

Re: musical accompaniment, I advise against writing to songs with words. Lyrics—words—will distract you from the task at hand, viz. coming up with words. Mendelssohn’s Lieder ohne Worte is a good choice for music to write by. Sorry, my German’s not too good so I don’t know what the title means. But at least there are no words in the songs.

6. Now, sit yourself down in a reasonably comfortable chair, position your keyboard in such a way that your fingers can reach it—I wasted two weeks before figuring that out—and start writing. Most writers agree, by the way, that writing is the hardest part of being a writer.

If you follow the simple steps outline above, you’ll find that writing in winter can be an enjoyable pastime, one that beats shoveling snow or slipping on the ice, neither of which you should attempt to do in the nude.