Falling water, relaxation, comfort…
Many authors find that when they’re having a bath or shower, or bobbing about in the ocean on a warm, sunny day, that’s one of the best times for inspiration to strike. Your mind is free and unfettered, allowing subconscious thoughts to rise to the surface and blend in interesting ways.
Sometimes, it’s when you’re simply enjoying the calming sensation of the water, and not deliberately trying to work out something in your head that answers and brilliant ideas can flash forth.
If inspiration tends to hit you when you’re bathing, have some sort of recording device on hand to help you remember all those wonderful ideas – paper and pen, or even a battery-operated audio recorder (such as a smartphone!).
A whiteboard with waterproof pens, stuck to the shower wall would be useful. It would make it easier to remember your flood of genius-quality ideas!
An extract from The Ill-Made Mute:
Speaking of water, here’s a passage from The Ill-Made Mute in which Imrhien and Sianadh find a mysterious, remote waterfall called Waterstair, reputed to conceal a vast wealth of treasure.
“Half-asleep, Imrhien stumbled onward, lending support
to her companion’s arm. As dusk approached, thunder, which had
been rumbling far off, grew louder. It was a sound that had
been audible now for a long time, yet in her dulled state of
awareness the girl had ignored it.
By now they had come right under the shadow of the
mountain wall. As they rounded a bend in the river, the trees
drew back. Pale sunlight poured down from open sky, a hissing
roar assaulted their ears, and an awesome sight greeted them.
Filled with rainbows, its millions of droplets appearing to
float slowly down from such a great height, a waterfall hung
like a silver curtain. Its hem was lost in spray over a rocky pool.
Sianadh leaned on his staff and laughed weakly.
“We have found it, chehrna . . . ”
“Sheets of jade water plunged, hurtling from the
heights in a torrent of raw energy. Rainbows
bridged its quivering mists. A haze of droplets
hung in the air, pearling every leaf and grass
blade that fringed the pool, beading hair and
eyelashes, collecting in miniature crystals on the skin. The
continuous roar pressed around Imrhien’s head, drummed and
threshed in her ears like the sound of battle.
The rocky basin receiving the waterfall was cradled
in the heart of a dell whose gently sloping sides were clothed with tall,
spindly trees . . .”