Just to be absolutely clear, we are not talking about ceiling turtles. Ceiling turtles are vicious and will eat your ears. We’re talking your average, run-of-the-mill, preferably stuffed turtle.
Stuffed as in plush. Not in a turtle-that-was-once-alive-but-now-is-not sort of way.
We all know that writers aren’t the most stable crayons in the box. We all have weird quirks. One of mine is named Matthias. He’s a stuffed turtle that I’ve had since about the age of 16 or so. Most of the time he sits on top of my editing books and stares at me with his beady, little eyes, asking why I haven’t rewritten that chapter from that other character’s POV by now. But sometimes when I’m stuck, it doesn’t hurt to reach over and put him on my head.
Say, when I’m a bit short on blog post ideas.
He’s actually very comfortable. He’s just heavy enough to exert a calming force across the whole of the top of my head. And I have heard from associates with their own stuffed turtle that the effect seems universal, as long as your turtle is of a general size and is somewhat floppy in its limbs.
I’m not guaranteeing that placing a turtle on your head will solve all your problems, but it probably will be somewhat calming and may help spark something.
Or you may just look like a crazy person with a turtle on your head. Jury’s out.
