Tuesday, February 26, 2019

Rooms of My Own

Virginia Woolf will be remembered for many things, but for me, the essay “A Room of One’s Own” is her crowning glory. And while I know that Woolf is speaking of “room” in both its literal and metaphorical sense, I can’t help but breathe a “thank you” to Virginia every time I sit in my home office and begin writing.

It’s not big, this room of my own, maybe twelve by twelve, one hundred and forty-four square feet. There’s a desk, and a loveseat, and a coffee table that belonged to my grandmother. There are old bookshelves that belonged to a great-uncle, plus file cabinets and wastebaskets and three original works of art that were gifts from people I love. I have rocks and crystals everywhere — baskets and bowls of gem clusters and river stones, citrine and calcite on the windowsill, a labradorite paperweight, a selenite crystal ball.

The desk sits right in front of the window overlooking my front yard. It’s an eastern view, so the rising sun illuminates my work area with hazy rose gold light. Right now, it’s on the cusp of spring here. The calamondin orange tree gives off a dizzying scent; the brown spent leaves fall from the live oak, making way for new growth. Soon the green will get brown-edged and crispy with the broil-and-bake temperatures that are coastal Georgia summers. But for now, all is moist and vernal and misty-gray in the morning. 

As you can probably tell, my room of my own has to be a room with a view. I recently read another author’s blog post on how much writing she got done in a boring room with nothing to distract her from her task. But I am not such a creature. I write best when my eyes have something to feast on while my brain chugs along (my brain itself requires caffeine, but that’s another story).

One of my best writing afternoons was spent in Colorado Springs when I snuck away from the Left Coast Crime festivities and hunkered down in my room with hot chocolate on the nightstand and a dazzling snowscape through the balcony window. As a child of the South, I was stunned and delighted by all the white stuff, and found the creative engine stoked by a view I never get at home. 

At the other extreme, I found the desert sands of Scottsdale to be just as inspiring. I was there during a spell of rainy weather that had the temperature hovering in the low sixties instead of the predicted nineties, so I replaced my planned umbrella drink with yet another hot chocolate. Luckily, the desert has a gravitas and bigness that opens up new vistas in the imagination, regardless of temperature.

 One of my most memorable writing rooms was mobile—the sleeper compartment on the Amtrak train from Savannah, Georgia to Albany, New York. I spent that 22-hour trip working with an ever-changing view, happily sequestered in a tiny, moveable space all to myself (and with a dining car two doors down – I cannot begin to tell you how much my productivity increases when someone else takes care of the cooking).

I’m curious about the rooms of your own — what does your fantasy writing space look like? Care to share?
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Tina Whittle writes the Tai Randolph/Trey Seaver mysteries. The sixth book in this Atlanta-based series—Necessary Ends—is available now. Tina is a proud member of Sisters in Crime and has served as both a chapter officer and national board member. Visit her website to follow her on social media, sign up for her newsletter, or read additional scenes and short stories: www.tinawhittle.com.




9 comments:

  1. I work at the kitchen table, or standing at the adjacent counter, able to open the outside door to let the dogs in and out.

    A room with a view: my worktable would be on a porch, overlooking birdfeeders, perennial and rose gardens, a marsh, and barrier beach.

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  2. In our last house, we had oak steps that went up to a floored attic area - an area that was meant to be finished. When we bought the house, I had a half bath put up there, a window over trees, etc. built and 30 ' of bookcases... I was in heaven. When we downsized, I took a bedroom for an office. My first book was written in there, but then I got a lab top. Now, my office is a big chair in my bedroom; a chair in my living room, or wherever I am.

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  3. For me, houses and rooms therein, are all about light and bringing the out-of-doors inside. On a short-term basis, I can work in a room without a view, but otherwise, I need to be connected with nature.

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  4. When our grown daughters left home, my husband and I claimed one each and set it up as our officer. That way we can spread out papers and not bother anyone but ourselves. It's particularly nice having a bed in each room to provide extra space to spread things out on. But that can be good and bad. Each time we have guests, we have to clear off the beds and vacate our offices.

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  5. I visited Ngaio Marsh's home in New Zealand and saw the room she wrote in. I even sat in her writing chair. It was a comfortable setting, well-lit and and the chair was plush. Apparently she sat and dictated while her secretary typed what she spoke.

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  6. Was it Stephen King who turned his desk around so it didn't face the view? I'm with Tina, give me a view - Right now I look across the backyard to a road and then to a river. In Maine my office is in a basement with those tiny windows. It's a great view spring to fall - wildflowers of the season and birds attracted to the seed tray as well as glimpses of the sky, come winter though, those windows are hidden behind drifts. I'm thinking of building a winter office all cozy and glassed in off the porch. I'll probably have to arm wrestle my husband for it, but hey, no sharing!

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  7. Thank you all for sharing your writing spaces! I had the best time envisioning them. I'm so glad to be among writers who appreciate (as Jim said) bringing the out-of-doors in.

    I also appreciate the attention to chairs -- the choice of sitting space is crucial. Fortunately, I have the best chair for writing. Unfortunately, the Maltese thinks it's also the best chair for perching and looking out the window, and so now he is lying on my shoulders like a weird lumpy stole while I try to type.

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  8. I work in a large bedroom with a nice view of woods. Off to the side, I can just see the driveway. It's also the "junk room." We somehow over the years we have accumulated lots of junk.

    An adult daughter recently moved in. It's a win-win situation. She is pursuing a graduate degree, so living rent-free and avoiding expenses like internet connection, etc. will let her do it with minimal student debt. And she helps us out (recent snow-shoveling chores are a perfect example) We know we will have to relocate to an assisted living facility in the foreseeable future, and this gives us time to research them, as well as downsize at a more comfortable rate.


    Interestingly, she referred to the room I'm using as "Mom's room." Somehow I had never seen it like that (I've never had my own room in my life, and the thought just never occurred to me) That gives me a great incentive to de-junk it and perhaps fix it up a bit more to my liking.


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  9. Yes! Make that room your own, KM!

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