Fiction in Flight: Why I Love Writing on Planes

The giant spilling over into my seat in row 43 glares at me like his overactive pituitary gland is my fault. The baby on the lap of the woman up in 42-C has been shrieking since our delayed take-off two hours ago. And my water bottle just rolled into some corner of pressurized oblivion.

But you won’t hear me complain. I’m too busy tapping away at my next novel seven miles up.

Writing fiction is a great way to escape the pain of everyday life. And since few things are more painful than flying coach, there are few better places to write than on a commercial flight. 

Lucky for you, I’ve already had three miniature bottles of bourbon and thus am a bit too drunk for my novel, but definitely not too drunk for my blog. In other words, this is a good time for me to get more specific on why I love writing on planes:

The mild decrease in oxygen is great for creativity. I have some of my best ideas when my brain isn’t functioning properly. Thanks to the slightly lower levels of oxygen on a plane, I’m able to think up especially captivating character quirks and impossible plot twists, as well as make myself believe I can make a living as an author.  

Strangers in uniforms risk bodily injury to bring me cocktails. Everyone knows a bit of alcohol enhances prose. And there’s something very satisfying about watching a flight attendant ricochet off aisle seats to deliver me a bourbon without spilling a drop. And since flight attendants are so preoccupied with ensuring the safety of everyone on board (except themselves), they often forget to charge me for the drink(s).

The in-flight magazine makes me feel like a literary genius. If ever my writing isn’t going well during a flight, I need only open up a copy of what’s tucked into my seatback pocket. Reading a couple of sentences on what to do in Newark or where to eat in Omaha is all it takes to make even the worst parts of my manuscript seem like they were written by Margaret Atwood.   

It’s a “get out of small-talk free” card. We’ve all sat next to the overly chatty passenger who just won’t shut up about the weather and their family and how they need you to get up so they can go pee. This hasn’t happened to me since I started writing on planes. Once I break out my laptop and start talking to my characters while drooling, even an intoxicated salesman from Wisconsin knows enough to pipe down and hold it in.

It’s fun to mess with wandering eyes. It’s only natural for passengers to sneak a peek at a manuscript on a screen that’s mere inches from their face. And it’s only natural for an author of dark fiction to frighten the hell out of them when the peeking turns into staring. Whenever I sense I have an audience while working on a plane, I write them into the story right before their eyes. There’s nothing quite like the expression on the face of the person next to me when they read, “Suddenly, the head of the overly curious woman in 27-E exploded.”        

Easy book promotion opportunities during the descent. The last 10-15 minutes of a flight, when the FAA requires me to stop writing and stow my laptop, that’s when I open for business. What better time to promote my books than when surrounded by people who have been starved for entertainment for hours on end and who are about to regain access to Amazon? So upon the initial descent, I hand out business cards (which list my titles) to everyone seated next to and near me. Then I tell them it’s been an absolute pleasure flying with them, and casually mention that if they don’t buy at least one of my novels the second we touch ground, I’ll write them into my next one. 

TAKE OFF

So if you are a writer or want to be, I highly recommend selling your home and/or car and/or drugs and using the money to fly as much as you can. I’m telling you, it’s the best thing you can do to enhance the number and quality of words you produce. On the ground, there are just too many options and distractions. Unlimited streaming. Reliable Wi-Fi. Edible food. Plus open spaces and fresh air. Nobody can be expected to write anything worthwhile in such a comfortable environment.

Miles high in a 737, however, there’s just drudgery and elbows and cold drafts and babies. And the only way out other than the emergency exits is your imagination.