Turn Around, I Forgot The Pig: Superstitions, Charms,
and How We Trick Ourselves Into Writing

by Michelle Moore and S. Reesa Herberth

Michelle

While I doubt that any of us are as bad as professional sports players (I, for one, have never worn the same underwear for a week!), we writers have our quirks. Quirks, idiosyncrasies, traditions… superstitions. Okay, we don’t really like to call them superstitions. That makes us sound so, well, superstitious. But I suspect everyone has some sort of a process they go through to get ready to write.

Like me, for an example. Before I settle in for an evening of productivity, I slip into a gold lame tuxedo jacket, braid some chameleon tails (naturally lost, of course) in my hair, and peddle a unicycle around the dining room table. Okay, not really. But there was a time when I couldn’t write a word without a bowl of Crunchy M&Ms at my side. Imagine my dismay and horror when Mars discontinued them. It wasn’t pretty.

Now that I have two novels under my belt, what’s my course of action? Am I as shortsighted in my choices? Well, as long as Starbucks stays solvent, I should be okay. Five days a week, I pack up my purple Dell mini, my purple thumb drive, my “Working Writer’s Daily Planner” and my little stuffed guinea pig and head to the neighborhood Starbucks. I do not leave without the pig. Let me repeat. Do. Not. Forget. The. Pig.

There are two acceptable tables, the preferred one is next to the mug display. The computer goes in the middle of the table, the planner goes on the window ledge, and the pig goes on the right hand side of the computer, sitting on top of my phone. Centered on top of my phone. I order the same drink, grande Java Chip Frappacino with four pumps peppermint and six scoops chips, and that goes on the left hand side of the computer on a napkin. Then and only then am I ready to write.

I’m insecure and I need some validation. Surely I’m not the only person out there with so many, err, issues. Help Michelle feel better about herself. Share some craziness. (Talking about yourself in the third person is not a requirement.)

—

Reesa

It only stands to reason that since Michelle and I write the same stories, and work at the same time, we’d have similar writing jinxes. I don’t -need- a grande skim caramel macchiato to write, but I’m not saying I’d ever turn one down. As outlined above, I clearly have to jockey for space on the table, but I’ve been known to bring my own little touchstones with me, namely a squishy pineapple stress toy that feels nice and bumpy in my hand when I need a moment of clarity.
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