Where I’m Writing From eli.cranor@gmail.com August 21, 2022 Eli Cranor is an Arkansas novelist whose debut novel, Don’t Know Tough, is available wherever books are sold. He can be reached using the “Contact” page at elicranor.com and found on Twitter @elicranor

I’m writing from the water, the three-quarter mile stretch between my back deck and the Mill Creek bridge, the same slice of Lake Dardanelle I swim almost every day.

And, no, I’m not really “writing.”

That would be messy, and more than likely fry my laptop, but I am thinking about writing while I take my daily swim, thinking of this column, and how to explain the power I feel while submerged in murky water.

The swim usually takes around thirty minutes. It’s a great workout for a former quarterback. A “low-impact” activity. But I do it for more than just the cardio.

I swim to escape.

Since my novel’s publication, I’ve been moored by a wave of digital requests: interviews, podcasts, bookstore events, festival appearances, authors/publicists asking for blurbs, etc.

Most of these arrive in my email inbox, which I used to enjoy checking but has now morphed into an ever-expanding to-do list.

There’s no email in the water. No text messages or social media notifications, either.

Escaping the distraction of everyday life, even just for thirty minutes, is critical when it comes to cultivating a creative brain. I interviewed the amazingly insightful thriller author Lisa Unger a few months back. She pointed me in the direction of Cal Newport’s book “Deep Work.”

Newport’s thesis is straightforward: the best work is done without distractions.

It might sound simple, but implementing this philosophy in today’s digitally connected world is no easy feat. Which brings me back to the water.

I can’t take my cell phone swimming. Nobody can reach me out there. This, of course, drives my wife crazy. But for the creative mind, pure unadulterated quiet time is a must.

Some of my best ideas have come somewhere between the dock and the bridge, right around the same time my arms start to burn and my breath quickens. There’s no longer any distractions at that point, just movement, head down, then up, sucking for air, each stroke leading me toward a blissful state of exhaustion.

That’s where the magic happens.

Jordan Harper, one of the best crime writers working today, calls this magic moment “Riding the tiger.” What he means here is that there’s no forcing creativity. Some problems refuse to be thought through linearly, or even logically.

Which is why I believe that, when faced with a crossroad, sweat works miracles.

Yes, I sweat when I swim. I never thought it was possible until I started free swimming in open water, but lakes get hot—bathwater hot—especially in the summer. In the winter, the water is so cold it takes my breath away and leaves me chilled for hours.

Still, I love it.

The severe temperatures don’t hinder my ability to think. Such extremes actually boost my cognitive process by melting—or freezing—away all distractions at an even faster rate.

Swimming isn’t the only way to achieve this state of mind. Laura Lippman, an all-time favorite author of mine, harnesses the power of a daily walk to suss out her problems.

“When I head off into a walk, my brain is just elsewhere,” she says. “We all know how it is. You’ve got a problem you can’t solve. You get all tensed up. Then you go on a walk and your brain relaxes, the answers come flowing in.”

This process doesn’t apply only to writing. It can work the same for any big decision or problem you might encounter. So, put the cell phone down and go for a walk, take a hike or a swim. Whatever you do, stop searching Google for an answer only your heart can provide.