Why Every Writer Needs a Dog

Here’s one they don’t teach at writing school

A recent scientific study suggests that walking has therapeutic benefits that may even exceed those of running. Apparently the action of walking raises endorphin levels and this has a positive effect on the way we feel and our thought processes.

For a long time, I was a long-distance runner over both marathon and ultra-marathon distances. I was a lot younger then and eventually my knees sat me down and had a long chat. Basically, they explained that I could continue running if I insisted but that they were simply not going to participate. To soften the blow, they suggested that they would be prepared to participate in as much walking as I wanted to do.

I was a little shocked by this act of betrayal. Running had become a big part of my life and here I was having to give up something I loved simply because my knees felt like slowing down a little.

I must admit that I sulked for a while. I also considered trading the two rebel joints in for something a little more loyal but my doctor advised me that it was far too soon to be thinking about prosthetic knees. After I resigned myself to the blackmail I was being put through I began walking and this has since become a passion of mine.

I do have a secret advantage here, I live on the St Jacques de Compostelle, the most ancient and celebrated pilgrimage in the Christian world. France is a hiker's dream but of all the many trails that traverse the country, St Jacques is definitely the most well known.

People come from all over the world to walk and contemplate along this route and this is the ideal countryside in which to do so. If I step out of my door and turn left I am headed toward Santiago de Compostella in Spain, turn right and I would eventually find myself in Arles where pilgrims have been starting their 1000 kilometer long journeys since the middle ages. The rugged and forested landscape practically begs to be hiked in.

I make about half of my scant income as a ghostwriter, and it is easy to find oneself losing direction, and even words, after you have been bogged down on a long project for days on end. Walking through the thick scrub oak is my preferred way of revitalizing those thought processes.

When I set off, I deliberately try to let go of any writing ideas that may have been smoldering in my brain, and instead, I focus on enjoying the feel of the ground beneath my feet and the odor of the forest that embraces me. I carry a small notebook and if any usable thoughts do come to mind, I scribble them down but I don’t chase them around too much. That is not the objective.

Some people like to call this mindful walking. In my case that term would be a little pretentious and a more accurate description would be semi-catatonic ambling.

For a writer engrossed in their work, it is easy to become so absorbed in pecking away at the keyboard that you fail to take breaks that might actually improve your productivity.

Here again, I have a secret weapon. Miss P, my small Jack Russellish terrier has her own ideas about the frequency of my breaks and when she decides I need one, there is no denying her. I have had dogs that barked or jumped around when they wanted to be taken out. Miss P’s strategy is far more effective. She sits in front of me and simply stares.

This is no ordinary stare. This is the sort of unblinking, unrelenting gaze that could burn graffiti off the side of a bus. It is a stare of the utmost determination; a stare that will broker no argument.

I have been known to yell at her and even fire threats but Miss. P. simply continues to stare. Any anger I direct toward her she simply regards as another of my creative tantrums. After years of training me, she knows I will capitulate. In her eyes, I am already a beaten man and it is just a matter of time before I succumb to her will.

With Miss P prodding me and an ancient pilgrim trail calling me, I feel that I can say with some certainty that walking has cured me of many cases of writer's block. I didn’t need a scientific study to tell me this.

There have been more occasions than I can count where I have stepped out the door feeling like my head was packed with cotton wool, only to return an hour or two later with both renewed enthusiasm and fresh ideas. So if like me, you are affected by writer’s block problems I suggest you buy a pair of walking boots and perhaps a small, single-minded dog.