I remember a quote from Ben Franklin, something to the effect that clothes do not make the man. Or is it that clothes do make the man? Whichever it is, I’ve noticed that what I wear makes a difference, not only in my moods, but in the way I write. That bit of information has opened up a whole new aspect to the art of writing. An aspect I’ve not to date found in any of the writing how-to’s upon which I’ve spent beaucoup bucks.
When my writing time happens to be in the early morning, and I’m still in my cotton knit, duckie-patterned pajamas and fluffy yellow house slippers, I tend to write in a relaxed, casual voice. I’m more inclined to be humorous, and to use words of two or less syllables. But when my writing time takes place in the evening, and I’m still wearing my work clothes, the voice tends to be more stilted, perhaps a bit faux, and the vocabulary tends toward the more cerebral.
The really neat thing about this discovery is that I’ve encountered wonderful facets of my Writer’s Voice that I didn’t know existed. The in-the-moment Voice of a child meets the Therapist’s clinical Voice, meets the Professional Musician’s Creative. Although I’ve not yet worked up the courage to write in the buff (small children live next door), I have decided to play dress-up whenever I’m blocked for grist.
This evening (Freud notwithstanding), I’m going to don my husband’s tuxedo, complete with cummerbund, cufflinks and silk tie. Who knows what my psyche will toss into the sunlight of my conscious mind. Might be worth finding out.