When I think of writers sitting down in their offices to write their next bestseller I don't picture a dining room table littered with Barbie dolls, play food, notebooks, sippy cups and used tissues. But alas, that is my office.
We bought this old house back in 2005, before kids, before dogs, before I knew what I wanted to do with my life. We were like most young married couples, full of big plans for our home and completely stupid. We looked at this house and saw a blank canvas that we could make our own. While our parents tried their best to stifle their giggles and groans we tore down old plastered walls with reckless abandon in hopes of adding more bedrooms, blowing out the kitchen wall to make it bigger and live like kings. Well, we still only have the 3 bedrooms, the kitchen is still small and I haven't had a front hallway, and thus use of the front door, in over 3 years. Our computer room is now in the bathroom's closet. Oh, how I wish I were joking.
Back to the point of a writer's office. I think most writers have a place where they can close away the rest of the world and just focus on their craft. Me? I have a dining room table that has yesterday's oatmeal stuck to the sides and constant distractions in the form of young children around me. The scene below is a very common occurence while I'm writing…or trying to.
Both of my kids love to grab ahold of my leg and try to swing the chair around so they can climb up and sit on my lap. Usually I can distract them by pointing out a toy, a doll or some shiny technological gadget that their father has left out for them to go play with but that only lasts so long. Before I know it the following happens….
Yep. I cave. I pick her up and let her sit on my lap while I try to figure out how to type with one hand. Which never works because as soon as my hand goes to the keyboard, so does hers and she's not as good of a typist as I am. Although, some of her edits are interesting and noteworthy.
But I try. Through all the distractions, the runny noses, the surprising plot twists that set me back in my story, to spending time playing princess for the thousandth time that day I make sure that each day I write something. Each night I set aside time to tickle the keys with my thoughts, hopes, ideas and hopefully, if I'm lucky, my characters.
It doesn't matter what the space looks like when we sit down in it. What matters is that we sit, that we type, that we do what we feel we were meant to be doing and I am.
3 responses to “My Writing Environment”
At least she is cute! 🙂
I have the same problem with a sub-par writing environment. And, somehow, my dog manages to make me give in, too. (She cried on the sofa all afternoon until I finally got up and moved to the sofa to write. She is now cuddled up next to me, out cold. And I am using her as an armrest. Win-win. 🙂
Not that I'm comparing children to animals, but your dog is pretty darn cute. I wish I had an office, but I'm not waiting until things go my way in order to write. If I wait for an office, I'll never write!
[…] those times that we set aside for me to write I'll be sitting at my dining room table. Why there? Because that's my desk. Amongst the used tissues, the naked Barbie dolls, and dried on oatmeal lies my computer, notebooks […]