Where Do You Go When You Write?

Fixed water: underwater caves, stalactites, isolation

Two years ago, I recorded a conversation with Liz Worth, a writer I admire very much. She interviewed me about topics of mutual interest: writing as a magical practice, Tarot, DIY culture, being in terrible bands and making zines in the 90s.

I didn’t realise it at the time but I was in a mildly altered state, coming down with a fever and so I was in the right frame of mind to answer her very interesting question: where do you go when you write?

The images that emerged for me were connected to deep water.

When I think about writing, I often imagine swimming, sinking, or drowning. And sometimes being forced to end a session abruptly can come on like the bends – struggling to readjust to the air pressure of the ordinary world.

My writing environment is a watery one. It feels completely real to me and I can describe it to you.

First, you sink down into the ocean as far as you can go. Then you find a rocky cavern, deep, deep down. Inside are stalactites and stalagmites.

There is a bottomless green pool of water that chills the air around it. Once you arrive, there is nowhere else to go.

There is nothing to do but contemplate the icy, beautiful surroundings. No distraction. No comfort. No safety. Total beauty. Total peace.

It is like wandering into the terrain of the Moon Tarot card, or Circe’s green lake in Waterhouse’s painting.

Where do you go when you write? Is it a location, or is it a state? Do you find it in your fevers? Do you find it in your dreams?