Writing always was an integral part of my life, both personally and professionally. The environments in which I worked best to construct essays, analyses, speeches, reports, literature, and the like were fluid. Moreover, I enjoy writing letters to my family and friends the old-fashioned way with fountain pen and good stationery. (That’s a topic for another article.)
In grade school, I worked around the chatter of my many sibling and the and clatter of their toys. By high school, I needed the radio to be on the desk playing music. My best essays were completed to classical music.
By the time I was in the 9-to-5 grind working as an analyst, I became immune to outside noises when I wrote reports and analyses. After all, in the rare times noises became too distracting, I closed my office door to help me concentrate without the clack-clack-clack of the secretaries’ typewriters and the harsh rings of the telephones; yet my radio would be on, but this time it was the yakking of talk radio, not music.
By the time personal computers replaced typewriters and telephone bells could be lowered to barely a buzz, the silence in the office became eerie. In those sections of the building where cubicles absorbed sounds, the quietness almost hurt my ears. And I found I was becoming less reliant on the white noise of my radio. There was something to this thing called “silence.”
These days, I am more productive in the taciturnity of Nature. My work schedule allows me to work at home and to enjoy Nature as my office. At home, the sounds of rustling palm fronds, the splashing of mocking birds in the bird bath, and the buzzing of honey bees in the bottlebrush trees become the conscious and intuitive environment that help to contribute to the efficiency of my freelance editor position.
Equally as important, as a writer, I pen my stories and poetry at home. However, I find immense inspiration and productivity at a nature preserve that’s within an easy walking distance from my cottage. There, the breezes dance across my notebook, the frogs grunt and croak under the boardwalk, and cries overhead from hawks all clear my mind to put a greater focus to the words pouring forth.
It’s interesting how a person changes and how the opportunities within environments can influence one’s creativity and productivity. As a teenager, manmade sounds helped me to write. Today, I let Nature take the lead.
This week, I spent time at the nature preserve and took in the melding of the sky with the lily pads in the pond.
It was energizing.
©Susan Marie Molloy and all works within.