I often hear other writers blogging and posting about retreating into their “writing caves” to work on their next book. They post pictures of beautiful offices and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with leather-bound classics and big, comfy chairs.
I envy them. I don’t have a writing cave, or even a quiet corner. If I disappear for more than five minutes, someone WILL find me (I’ve tried).
So where do I escape reality long enough to string a few (hopefully) coherent sentences together? In order of usage, least frequent to most:
3) My unfinished basement, on my treadmill, to which I have strapped a 4 x 6 pine board to the handlebars to hold my laptop while I type away (because it seems the size of my ass is increasing in direct proportion to the number of books I publish).
2) My dining room table (because we never actually eat in there). That’s only IF I can find space among ongoing school projects and piles of socks and dishtowels waiting to be folded (won’t be today).
1) My kitchen table (because my kitchen is the command center of my home). From this location, I can simultaneously cook dinner, help with homework, and respond to the next household crisis in mere seconds.
Life is too short not to do what you love, even if you have to get a bit creative to do it.