A New Writing Space

by James M. Jackson

Composing today’s blog is my first opportunity to use my new writing space in Madison, Wisconsin. I have a belief—belief because I hold it without a shred of evidence—that the space I write in affects my writing. Thinking back to other offices I have had, this is the first one that is partially underground, although it qualifies that designation. The desk stands before a double window beyond which is a two-foot-high rock retaining wall, meaning half of my desk resides at ground level and half two-feet below.

All my offices have shared one key characteristic: lots of natural light. My writing space at home in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is in a second-story loft with a view out a wall of windows toward our lake. It’s all nature, all the time.

My Cincinnati office was on the second floor of a three-story Victorian. The corner room’s windows faced the street and side yard. Trees shaded me in summer and allowed for a bit of bird-watching. My Kentucky condo office was on the ground (top) floor. The Savannah condo office was also on the ground floor, but there was a second story. Both of those offices faced the street, allowing me to watch neighborhood goings-on from my desk. In Savannah, I could join neighborhood chats, meet the mailman when he delivered mail, watch for deliveries, etc. And I scattered seed on the ground in front of the triple windows to attract a flock of fifty Chipping Sparrows to entertain me. Many other birds used a young water oak in the front yard for resting and feeding.

My latest office is not only below street level (we’re situated on a hill sloping front to back), it faces the back. I’ll have no neighbor distractions (unless they are doing something in their back yard—unlikely in Wisconsin winter). The window has views of a tree-line a few hundred yards away – a good place for a resting hawk, but too far away for the smaller birds to distract me. Closer in are a couple of bushes and small trees that might attract a few birds. Immediately in front of me are the stairs coming down from the first-floor deck. I’m picturing a bird feeder or two hanging below the deck.

Oh, a Dark-eyed Junco just checked the rock wall under the deck stairs. Perhaps that will be a place to scatter some sparrow-friendly seed.

The kitchen, great room, master bedroom and TV room in Madison are all on the main level, making this lower-level study more isolated than past work areas (even though the office is part of a larger family room). Jan and I have already discovered that if we can’t see one another, we can’t hear one another, so she says she may end up calling me on my cell phone rather than trooping up and down the 15 steps between floors. Good thing I have her phone number in my address book since I don’t answer unknown calls that have the same prefix as mine because of robocalls and scammers. The isolation also means I can play music while working without disturbing Jan from whatever she is doing. (I prefer New Age or Classical for writing. I start singing along with vocal music, which interferes with getting words on the page.)

We’ll see how the new digs affect my writing. I can use my desk either as a standing desk or set low for sitting. I spend most of my time standing but take breaks to sit. Sitting changes my perspective. I can no longer see the ground and instead see much more of the sky. Will I need to sit to write expansively? Will I need to stand to be more grounded? Will characters take on a more isolated view of the world now that I no longer see the goings-on of the neighborhood? We’ll see.

Do you agree that the quality of space affects the work product?

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James M. Jackson authors the Seamus McCree mystery series. Empty Promises, the fifth novel in the series—this one set in the deep woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—is now available. You can sign up for his newsletter and find more information about Jim and his books at https://jamesmjackson.com.