A Room of My Own

I can write anywhere.  On a train, a plane, a bus, in a coffee shop or restaurant, at the beach or by a pool, or in a cabin in the woods.  I’m lucky that way.  Or maybe it’s that I’ve never been able to be picky – I have to take my writing time where and when I can get it.

But when I do have a place to call my own, it’s great to have a space dedicated to writing.  I moved into a condo recently, and spent a while fixing up my office so it has the right energy.  (I know that sounds new-agey, but there is something to be said for a space you believe has a certain vibe, even if it’s all in your head.) First I spent a day painting it green – I find green to be energetic but also not too frantic, if that makes sense.  Then I got my desk arranged just right, with all my writing totems and the pictures of my girls.  It’s not finished yet, but it’s getting there.

I love my desk, but I use it mostly for revision.  When I am creating new work, I write sitting on a bed.  Yes, it’s lousy for my back and shoulders, but it’s where I’m most comfortable. Legs curled up, laptop in front of me.  I can lose myself for hours that way.  And the awesome thing is, when I get tired, I can move my laptop to my desk and stretch out on the bed for a little nap.  An afternoon nap is one of the biggest perks of being a writer.

I also have a corkboard I haven’t hung yet that I got when I dedicated a space to my work years ago.  My first writing group gave me slips of paper filled with good wishes – creative blessings, I guess you’d call them.  I take it with me wherever I go – it reminds me of those wonderful writers (Jennie, Kate, Burnley, Roberta, Michelle), the women who helped me believe in my ability to string together sentences.  Wish you were here to bless this room, ladies.