Writers are creatures of habit. We all have our favorite places where we like to sit and write, places where our minds are free to pour out ideas and words via a keyboard (or pen and paper if you are old school.) While ideally such a place would be a room separate from the rest of the house, I don’t have that luxury. Besides, I don’t like forcing myself away from everybody else in the family. Not to mention the fact that it’s impossible to squirrel myself away in a safe place with no interruptions—it’s only a matter of minutes before either my husband, my daughter or either of the two dogs needs me for something.
My writing place is the corner of the leather love seat closest to our TV. I have a black end table with drawers in it to my right along with a lamp and craft light I can use. My writing partner, Daisy, loves to curl up besides me on my left while I’m sitting in my spot. She’s a very forgiving critic. She loves the sound of my voice should I choose to read something out loud to her.
My writing place is the corner of the leather love seat closest to our TV. I have a black end table with drawers in it to my right along with a lamp and craft light I can use. My writing partner, Daisy, loves to curl up besides me on my left while I’m sitting in my spot. She’s a very forgiving critic. She loves the sound of my voice should I choose to read something out loud to her.
Other writers prefer absolute peace and quiet, while still others are gifted enough to write prolifically anywhere. The choices for writing places are as individual as the tales each writer spins.
Some day, I may graduate to the point where I do my writing in a separate room free from any distractions. But until then, my writing corner does very well.
Where are your favorite places to write?
Where are your favorite places to write?
I love writing in an overstuffed chair that was made for my father. It is extra deep for long legs (with a matching otterman so those long legs can be elevated). As a child, I played everything from covered-wagon to camping out in that chair..... and now it brings me memories of my dad and my childhood as my imagination runs wild creating stories and novels.
ReplyDeleteI write at the kitchen table, able to turn and open the deck door for the dogs. Of course, with my husband telecommuting the house is no longer quiet, but we're trying to establish a routine.
ReplyDeleteNow that the kids are grown, I have the luxury of using a spare bedroom for writing. One of these days I will actually get around to moving out the accumulated "stuff" and straightening things out. Imagine my horror when one of my sisters decided to arrange a family-wide video conference and I took a look at the bed behind me & piled high with "shall we donate it or find room in the closet?" clothes. I did get to work on that, but when I joined the video conference, the camera on my computer just caught the top of my head and a window. And I even combed my hair and made sure I had matching earrings and no smudges on my face.
ReplyDeleteI'm with you. Noise doesn't bother me if I'm fully engaged in writing. I don't need silence. Actually prefer a little commotion!
ReplyDeleteYears ago when I was raising my family, I wrote on my typewriter in the dining room, then graduated to the second floor landing. Now I write in my office, which is painted yellow, surrounded by books, papers, and items dear to me. Sammy, my cat, is usally beside me.
ReplyDeleteI, too, have the luxury of an office in the extra bedroom. My serious writing has to be on my computer at the desk. I scribble notes sometimes, as thoughts occur to me, wherever I am, but they are developed back in the saddle.
ReplyDeleteI work from home and so have converted the third bedroom into my office. One side is for my day job, desk, printer, scanner, and computer. The other is for my writing life, laptop, and printer--I let both sides of myself share the scanner. What's funny is I cannot write on my day job desk, nor can I do the day job at my writing desk. Same room, same light, different desk character.
ReplyDeleteAs for silence. I music with lyrics overcome my concentration, but I tune out voices. Much to the chagrin of my retired husband who cannot understand why I can't hear him.