In my loneliest days I spent the most time jumping from work environment to work environment. Writing in a bar is definitely something I did for a while, and maybe it led to some great breakthroughs – who knows – but mostly it was a bullshitty little ritual, getting myself set up, cozy, in the headspace to write. These days I write in the same places by necessity: at my desk, on the train, in my head while walking my son. There’s just no time to fold the external world into the process, and I’ve had to adjust to life without it. Assuming it ever mattered at all, which I’m not sure it did.