When I first saw feet sticking out from under the desk, I thought, “How cute!” Then I thought, “He writes his stories under there, and he’s very productive. Maybe I should take that spot when he goes to school tomorrow.” I was mostly joking. But that thought made me stop and mull the power of finding your perfect writing nook. You see, that Lego table he’s under used to be my writing desk before I had children. I wrote two novels there. Now someone is writing novels UNDER there, and it’s not me.
Sometimes, as a writer you write where you must. You make where you are work for you. But sometimes a writer gets the joy of nesting into the perfect space—one that lets you get into your creative mindset and tune out the world and, to put it bluntly, produce. I’ve noticed that for me the “perfect writing space” has changed over the years. Not just because I had kids and they covered my table with Lego ships and robots. Rather, I’ve found that it’s useful for me to “flip the switch” now by actively leaving my house. I’m not just avoiding sinks of dirty dishes calling out to be washed, or baskets of clothes begging to be folded. It’s that I physically have to “go to work.” Elsewhere. Away from home. Only then does my mind slip off into creative mode.
And that’s okay. My dream of working from home has shifted from the notion of doing a day’s work without ever leaving my house (which seemed the desired antithesis to reporting to an office with a boss and a daily helping of meetings) to the notion that my work is about my mental space, not my physical place. I want to work where I’m most productive. And that’s what I’ve got. I wrote Writing New Adult Fiction at the mall food court near my house. Free wifi, comfy furniture, access to food, a lovely breeze and a nearby bathroom. But then that place starting feeling less productive. So my place shifted once more, and it involves an actual office… of sorts. Now I pack up a lunch just like I used to when I worked in an office, I walk out the front door in the morning just like a used to (although later), and I get in my car just like I used to. Only, now that’s pretty much the destination. That car. Or rather, that minivan. I call it my Mobile Office. I drive it to a nearby park or the beach, find a shady spot with a lovely view, then roll down the windows for a breeze, crack open the laptop, and start typing. By then I’m in my creative mindset. My writing perfect space.
I imagine this, too, will shift. But since I can drive my office to all kinds of different settings to add variety, I’m counting on the shift not happening for a good long while. About 7-ish years, to be exact. You see, that’s when my boys are set to graduate high school and head off to college … and I get my desk back.