The list of this week's prompts from Kai is somewhere in my file on this Boot Camp, but do you think I can find it? Organising isn't a strong point in my life. I know I saved it there, but remembering what I called it is another thing completely. Anyway, I remembered what I wanted to write about for tonight as I started flicking through the pages of Pen on Fire by Barbara DeMarco-Barrett.

There's a quote on the tope of page 45. It reads "Much of the activity we think of as writing is, actually, getting ready to write." The reference is Gail Godwin, "Rituals and Readiness," in Neil Baldwin and Diane Osen, eds., THE WRITING LIFE.

After writing up my assignment for the question on rituals the thoughts stayed with me. As I prepared for bed last night, the teeth cleaning, the setting things right so the morning won't be so fractured and stressed, the topping up my glass of water and checking the kids kind of things, my mind continued to dwell on the subject. It occurred to me some time today, as I wheeled around the shops with my baby sleeping in his pram, that I don't just sit down and write, at least not very often; most of the day, as I work and play, several thoughts at one time are spiraling and twirling through my brain. Once I'm given a task or assignment I find myself pondering what it means, what do I think, what I will say. There's a process of letting my creative juices steam up the pot, so to speak. I heat up the topic and wait to see what rises. I tend to believe you can say something on just about anything given a short space of time to think about it. But there is also a great challenge in producing something with hardly a thought at all.

These thoughts led me into the truth about what I really do when it comes to writing. I may just sit and write, but my brain is constantly working on problems, ideas, sifting for better ways to express myself, seeking out the perfect word for any given situation, pondering short story ideas, thinking on which articles to use in my project (see goals). I am constantly letting these thoughts roll over and over slowly in my mind. My brain is on simmer all the time. I don't switch the heat off, even in my dreams. At times I find the perfect solution or answer to a slight dilemma in my dreams. More often the answer I'm seeking will hit me when I'm in the shower or driving the car. I also tend to day dream when I'm feeding the baby, at least if I don't have a book or magazine handy. But the best place to find these aha moments, for me, is while cooking.

I've been cooking for a long time. My mother had me stand on stools to stir contents of pots, mix ingredients into bowls, sift flour, knead dough, poke holes in pastry, or measure into cups and scales from the moment I could reach the bench. I'm not sure just when it happened but I really got into this cooking thing. By the time I was kicked out of school I knew I wanted to be a chef. It was clear when I turned up for the apprentice chef interview that the guy liked me. The fact I was the only applicant who knew my way around a kitchen might have had something to do with it. But it was more likely the fact I lived five minutes away that really swung him around to picking me for his first year apprentice. I think he was really surprised to find I could actually cook.

He taught me many things, but did not fill out my paperwork. So when he had good reason, another long story, he sacked me and didn't feel obligated to complete my training. I still cooked, though. By now it was simply part of me. The head chef kitchen banter fuelled my desire to buy cook books. I whipped up whatever appealed from those books. I didn't realise it at the time, but I would go into the zone while cooking, too.

As anything can grow tired from overuse, the whole idea that I've been cooking day in and day out for so many years now grated on me. I imagined I did not enjoy it as much as I once had. When I found out I was pregnant last year hubby suggested the kids help out with the cooking more. I was into that and felt I needed the break. I could nap more and relax, which I did. When I had the baby life was hectic. My lovely teens cooked for the first three months of their new sibling's life. I thank them for their kindness every day. But the first time I actually stood to cook a meal, the very feel of that wooden spatula in my hand, the biting scent of onions, the sizzle of golden olive oil, the texture of chicken flesh under my fingertips, transported me somewhere. It was like stepping through an open door. I knew then what I'd not realised for so many years; cooking time was when I did my most productive and exciting day dreaming when it came to my writing.

I need to cook the family meal at night. It's part of my creative process. Even though I still look forward to the break the kids give me when they help out, I tend to be a bit more protective of my need to prepare the family meals now. Anyway, my time is well and truly up and I didn’t even notice.