Creative Freedom: Three Lessons from Three Writers

A half-naked French man.

A drawer full of putrid apples.

Stimulant abuse.
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What do they all have in common?

It’s not your living room after a dodgy night out, but the strategies great writers have used to get into the zone and chase excellence in their craft.

I don’t have photo proof, but Victor Hugo is our half-naked man here.

Like you and I today, he held himself accountable to a daily word quota.

But what if the fresh air of Guernsey, his home isle, tempted him out for a walk?

No!

He had to focus. To make sure he hit his quota, Hugo stripped to his bare skin, tucked away his clothes and turned the lock on them.

Now, naked as a sphynx cat, he had no choice but to shield himself from the public and get to work on his books.

To make his habit look even more eccentric, he’d put on a long knitted shawl. From what looked like an asylum patient writing alone in his room, we are gifted with some of the finest novels on our shelf.

Buried somewhere in these quirky routines is a lesson on how you can feel freedom in your work, but it would be a crime to skip the next two writers before then.

The next odd tale comes from Friedrich Schiller -polymath, playwright and one of Germany’s most revered authors.

For a moment, step into his wife’s shoes.

The husband who greets her at the door is the same man who engraved his name in the high culture of the nation. Industrious and refined, his wife couldn’t be prouder to know him.

Until one afternoon, she walks into his room and catches a whiff of . . .

. . . decay.

That’s strange.

She follows the odour to an innocent drawer.

She slides it open and a blast of pungent air knocks her breath out. She clears her mouth, tightens her stomach and turns back for another look.

Rotten apples.

A whole drawer of putrid brown biomass.

She’s bewildered -how can a man so distinguished hoard rotting fruits in his workspace? What’s the game behind this gross habit?

Turns out it’s not a polymath’s science experiment, but a writing ritual.

Schiller explained to his puzzled wife how the scent of rot sparked his creativity.

I don’t pretend to know why, but chances are, it lit up his neural pathways in just the right way for his words to pour out well.

Or he was just weird, as Occam’s razor would cut it.

I bet you see a hint of yourself in the final writer.

How many cups of coffee do you drink per day?

Perhaps a cappuccino to set your morning off, then a black espresso for an afternoon spark.

Or maybe you slip in an extra two or three in between -I hover around four.

But our numbers are put to shame by the French novelist Honoré de Balzac.

It’s said he could drink up to 50 cups a day. Five. Zero.

And his caffeinated binge was not just addiction, but the fuel of a prolific writing life. With it, he penned almost a hundred works.

Two questions popped up in my mind when I first read of this:

How did Balzac sleep?

Simple -he didn’t. At least within any sane routine.

While the brothels of Paris buzzed in the early hours of the morning, Balzac fired up his coffee pot and wrote from 2am until sunrise, many hours later.

Once the post-lunch weariness hit him and the flood of caffeine gave way, he’d sleep until midnight and repeat the process.

A few extra mugs won’t kill you, but how did Balzac keep up this habit?

Again, it didn’t last too long.

The writer’s heart was not robust(a) enough to handle the abuse, and he died of heart failure at fifty one.

For your own health (and sanity), this is not a suggestion for you to adopt these habits.

We can take inspiration from these writers to make our learning fun, meaningful and personal -not by copying their habits, but their approach.

These writers were bold in their routines.

Nobody else could claim the same work patterns, and with ruthless individuality, they defined what a good day’s work looked like.

The hustle bros on X will pray to the optimisation god to reveal them the perfect routine -the one their role models stuck by.

It’s not bad to find inspiration from the greats, but at some point, you lose your agency in what should be totally yours.

Your writing, reading and growth should be a dictatorship under you.

Not a soul on earth would dare walk into Friedrich Schiller’s smelly room and tell him:

Erm akshually, rotting apples don’t increase productivity -here’s 10 life-changing tips to boost your output…

Yeah right.

Schiller does what Schiller does, and he wins because of it.

You too can seize this freedom.

First, consider what the end result is and remain loyal to it.

Everyone seeks a different end to their neighbour.

The booktok versus classics debate is a great way to show how this step deflates into failure. It’s what happens when two sides are ignorant of each other’s goals.

In case you’re lucky and haven’t heard of the feud, ‘booktok’ is a subculture of readers who tend to lean on the young-adult romance fantasy-esque books.

Many from the classical literature camp mock their books for being shallow and vain.

I share that view, but the whole debate is pointless when you consider each group's goals.

I generalise here, but booktok readers look for entertainment -a story they can relate to and be sucked in by.

Who says they want to discover what Victorian society looked like through Dickens? Why would they care about Plutarch’s take on Rome?

To a ‘casual’ reader, the classics might just be a drollish extension of school, and not what they seek.

Of course it’s an oversimplification- you can be both -but the point is, different people read for different reasons.

A philosophy fan may have a love-hate relationship with his thesis research, and yet he gets to the end fulfilled.

A booktoker sees that and wonders how he hasn’t jumped off a bridge yet. For them, the simple pleasure of a good story is what defines a successful read.

So before a guru puts words in your mouth and tells you what success means, define it yourself.

Second, build a routine that serves the goal.

Just like our writers above, this can be as simple or outlandish as you want -that’s where the beauty of freedom lies.

Any weird quirk, abnormal timing or unique tool that helps you get there is fair game, no matter what it looks like from outside eyes.

There’s not much else to say.

This step is up to you to finish.

To your renewed freedom and a great week ahead,

Odysseas

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P.S Dutch painters have been carrying the painting game as of late -they always have the perfect choice for these emails (not sponsored). Is it in their blood? Is it something in the water?

Also in case you were curious, I get these paintings from Wikimedia Commons. If you search any painting name + 'wikimedia commons,' you're likely to find a nice crisp image of it, high-res and totally free.