I admit I admire authors who can sit down in a Starbuck's, slurp coffee, and work on their latest novel. Also those who blithely settle a laptop on their food tray in a crowded airplane and create away. While I may be forming new chapters behind my closed eyes while flying, I find it difficult to write outside my chosen space---once my daughter's bedroom, now called the computer room though it still has a bed in it. There sits my old desktop computer with the keys that still make sound when hit reminiscent of the days when I typed on an Olivetti portable typewriter, but not nearly as loud. I have a well-worn office chair comfortable enough for napping and adjusted to my height. The desk the screen sits on has enough space for my ever-present cup of hot tea, a printer, and a stack of notes to myself at my left hand because I am left-handed. Its file drawer is overstuffed with the real paper folders I keep on each book for quick reference including a list of characters and copies of my contracts. I also have the contracts on the hard drive, but you can't be too careful with legal stuff. Yeah, I am kind of old-fashioned. I don't trust the cloud. Where is it? What is it?
I also like peace and quiet when I write. I don't listen to music because it distracts me. I have to hum along or even sing if I like the song which is not conducive to getting words down on a page. I might leave a TV on in another room for white noise, and if any big event takes place I will be alerted by the blast of sound saying Breaking News or Tornado Warning! Sadly, this is why I saw the events of January Sixth and am aware of every school shooting. After watching those, going back to writing seems trivial, but ultimately, I need to escape into my books and craft a story that will give readers some relief from the real world. A fan recently told me that when they are down, they pick up one of my titles and always feel better at the end. A happy ending is guaranteed with every title. I was also touched when I checked my blog stats that someone in Ukraine was reading my post. I try to make them useful and amusing, but bless their heart that in an unjustly war-torn country they can give me even a few minutes of their time.
Recently, we had some renovations done on our forty-year-old house. Every shot of the nail gun make me jump even though I'd closed the door and tried to immerse myself in writing. Can't be done. So, there is always Facebook in cases like this. I also lose lots of time to travel which I love to do. When I am on vacation I vacate my writing and simply enjoy that jet boat ride down the Snake River or the depths of Mammoth Cave. The guilt comes later when I get home and am way behind my self-imposed writing schedule.
Then there is the struggle of sharing my favorite space with my husband who has a very nice laptop but prefers the comfy chair and the desktop, too. No problem before he retired. I used it all day, and he got it all night because I wind down around three-thirty, watch Jeopardy, and make dinner. After that, I stay off the computer. I find it makes for a better night's sleep to pack it away, watch TV, read someone else's books, or do crossword puzzles. Fortunately, my husband is an astronomer who loves to use the computer far into the night if he isn't outside observing a transit of Venus or a flyover of the space station. Still, even though he occasionally bumps me off for a zoom meeting with his planetarium friends, we still manage to get along, though I will get aggressive if I feel the need to write while he is facebooking.
Did I mention I did not start writing until my children were grown and gone to college? Try sharing your writing space with a teen, but now they would mostly be obsessed by their phones so not a problem. As for writing with small children around. Just forget about it.
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