How to find a quiet place to write

Now that I'm writing Letters regularly, the depth of the writing requires a great deal of solitude.

I've been reading Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. It's beautiful. One of the themes throughout Rilke's work is the importance of solitude in work.

Solitude runs counter to the demands for attention that come as the work becomes well received.

The more impact the work, the more people want to email me asking for my attention.

These days, I'd rather be writing. Writing is a solitary endeavor. There is no collective, there is no group consensus, there is no conversation.

Writing is just me, my notebook, it's just me and my keyboard, it's just me and the publish button.

In November, realized that I didn't want to be expected to entertain a large audience in person.

It was raining in San Francisco. I took a bus to an event for C.G.'s book tour. I ran into L.B. on the bus. We chatted, briefly.

I walked into the room of 250+ people, immediately people wanted my attention.

"Oh, you're Everett Bogue, the minimalist."

C.B. introduced C.G. He asked how many people in the audience had sent C.G. an email. All hands rose. He asked how many people got a response. All hands rose.

C.G. looked tired of answering emails.

L.B. spoke briefly to the crowd, and escaped the crowd back home (even more people wanted to talk to him -- why wouldn't they? L.B.'s email address is secret -- none of them could talk to him any other way.)

Me, I stayed.

I stayed as one person after another came up to me and picked my brain.

I left emotionally/physically/creatively drained.

Maybe someday I'll be a speaker, or someone who can work a room. For now, I write in solitude.

I don't give out my email address anymore. I used to, but around a year and a half ago I started to receive so many emails that responding to them took half a day.

I'm happy to respond to peers. I'm happy to respond to friends.

Everyone who signs up for The Letter gets access to my email address. These subscribers are committed, so I trust that they use the access mindfully.

But for me, the attention economy is not a reason to stay up until 3 am just to react to every email or blog comment or tweet that comes my way. Constantly responding creates an artificial sense of importance -- I found this to be a distraction from the depth of my work.

Writing at the surface is easily forgotten, writing at depth can have lasting power.

These days, I receive 2-6 emails a day.

I don't feel pressured to respond to any of them.

I'm not accountable to the people who email me.

I'm headed to Seattle to find a quiet place to write for awhile. I'm working on a new project. I'm sending work-in-progress to the Letter. Letter subscribers will get the new project free when it's released.

How to find a quiet place to write.

1. Take care of basic needs.

A soft futon, on the ground, in a reliable place. Two teacups. A blender for smoothies. A way to make coffee and/or tea.

2. Places to walk.

Ideas come when I take long walks. A beautiful city is walkable.

3. Places to write.

Somewhere to sit whenever the inspiration to write strikes. A coffee shop that's quiet, with dependable Wifi, a good atmosphere, and decently roasted beans. Perhaps a corner with a soft light to write when I wake up at 3am with an idea stuck in my head.

4. Solitude.

A deep sense of aloneness. The vast distance between all of us, acknowledged.