No wonder writers love tea

Writing is about noticing. That’s why it’s incredibly difficult to write powerfully from an office. Any attempts are brain-led – scrapping the barrel of bread-and-butter phases: ‘sun-kissed mountains’ and all. Rehashing an amalgamation of brain-written articles. The pools of your senses run dry over time.

Where’s the newness?

You’re confined to churning out sentences that tick boxes – ‘oooo, that sounds nice’ – but they don’t leave a feeling. A permeance of emotion is lacking. Something you’ll feel weeks later when you can’t sleep at night.

In contrast: writing is bodily. Noticing the world gathers material in the body to write about. Call it emotional carb loading. Movement is essential in the foraging process.

Real writing is throwing up stored noticing in your body.

It can leave you feeling vulnerable. Shivery and in need of nurture. It abandons you — craving a blanket around the shoulders and a cup of hot tea pressed into your palms. There’s you on the page. Your clothes are off.

No wonder writers love tea.

Ollie