this is how i go about it:
i take a fresh pot of tea into my study and close the door.
then i remove my clothes and leave them in a pile
as if i had melted to death and my legacy consisted of only
a white shirt, a pair of pants, and a pot of cold tea.
then i remove my flesh and hang it over a chair.
i slide it off my bones like a silken garment.
i do this so that what i write will be pure,
uncontaminated by the preoccupations of the body.
Billy Collins on writing
waiting (by Jana Romanova)
A Georgian Townhouse in Edinburgh Remodeled for an Artist by
Reading in bed can be heaven, assuming you can get just the right amount of light on the page and aren’t prone to spilling your coffee or cognac on the sheets.
Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft