I’m writing this on day 3 of a fever, so please excuse me if it’s super loopy. I get stir crazy being quarantined for this long, but I’d hate to get anyone else sick.
I love my office. It’s a tiny room at the top of the stairs that I painted navy blue just before we moved into this house. I have a bitsy green velvet sofa and a phrenology bust and an old Turkish rug. It has this very “18th-century French apothecary vibe,” and I love it. I never write there in the winter time.
First of all, it’s too cold. (No one ever cut a vent into that room. It may actually be a large closet. Hush.) Second, In the winter, I tend to be struck by bouts of S.A.D., so I like to have my sunlamp nearby and be in a room with as much natural light as possible.
I end up doing a lot of my writing in my bedroom, in my bed, propped up with a million pillows and my laptop on a pillow on my lap. I’m just steps away from the kitchen and my next cup of tea, and my dogs cuddle up on their beds and snooze until it’s time for their next walk.
I know it’s terrible for me to work in bed, especially with insomnia as bad as mine is, but I just can’t seem to shake the habit. And when it’s cold outside, snuggling up in my covers and quilts makes it so much easier for me to get work done.
Even though I’m sick this week, I’ve still gotten nearly 3,000 words on a proposal for my next fantasy series (UGH. Y’all. I’m so in love with this concept. I wish I could tell you more.)
I’ve never been someone who’s picky about their writing space. When we lived in South Korea I would write in our tiny apartment (250 sq. feet. The only door was to the bathroom) when my husband wasn’t home, and in a cafe around the corner when he was. All I really need is somewhere to put my computer, a cup of tea, and a little bit of uninterrupted time.
What do you need to write?
