They say writers have rituals.
Small quirks connected with the act of writing.

Some people leave the first page of the notebook blank.
Some write only by night.
Or in the morning.
Some need to break a new pen, or a new keyboard.

Back in the days, when I started hammering my stories on a pea-green Olivetti Lettera 32, I took the habit of setting a coin upright, about one span to the side of my typewriter.
Say, a 200 lire coin, or apublic phone token.
The deal was, I would write non stop until the coin stood.
Apart from some childish superstition, something emerged – as long as my writing was flowing*, my hands on the keys would be light enough that no excess vibration would cause the coin to fall.
But as soon as I started straining, punching more violently on the keys, the coin would drop.
Time for a break.
Revise the notes (if any), walk around a bit.
Then back to work – coin upright, typing away.

I still do it.
I use one or two ten eurocent coins, placing them on their rim, here by my keyboard (I still use an old, mechanical Trust keyboard, that goes click-clack as I type).
My game still works.

Is it silly?
Hell, yes.
But somehow, it sort of goes well with my writing.
We need small rituals, small games.
The element of play is indispensible.
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* as much as writing can flow when you type with four fingers on an old mechanical machine.