The place where words come from

I’ve discovered that the place where I do my best writing is in airplanes flying across the Atlantic ocean.

Unfortunately, it’s not a very cost-effective way to write.

Back in April when I wrote my short 28-page e-book (in Danish, sorry), which I still get very positive feedback on, I’d first written it at home.

But when I sat on that plane from Copenhagen to Chicago and re-read what I’d written, it just wasn’t my voice.

It’s easy to get distorted. We read so many things, watch movies, news, online videos, it’s easy to pick up ideas, phrases, and habits from other places.

I find that there’s a place within me from which words come. I can write without being connected to that place, but the words aren’t truly mine. But connecting to that place requires certain things of me and my environment.

So far I’ve found that the best place to connect with the place where words come from, like I said, is on an airplane flying across the Atlantic. At home or at the office are usually way too distracting. Unless everybody is asleep and I can’t sleep, so I get back out of bed and start cranking. That has happened. But then there’s a price to pay when the family wakes up next morning.

This week I’m experimenting with another alternative: A beach house.

I’m so fortunate to have access to what is possibly the most beautiful, charming beach house in the world. It used to belong to famous Danish actor Osvald Helmuth and later his son, Frits. It’s not fancy in any way, but the location and the view is unbeatable, and it’s got truckloads of history and charm. And now it belongs my my wife’s uncle, and he wasn’t using it this week.

It’s working okay so far, I think.

Where’s your place where words come from?