A Writing Room of One’s Own

February 20, 2024

I write at a desk next to windows that overlook the Mystic River. I can see the changing colors of water and sky, as well as the rock ledge that caps our backyard. It’s a nice setup. The only issue is that my desk also abuts our kitchen, the heart of the house, a place my husband sometimes needs to populate momentarily. I understand this. But, because I like a quiet writing environment, all he has to do is walk through the kitchen on his way out the back door to get my mind to follow him. This is why I sometimes fantasize about working in a writing studio.

Nothing fancy, it would be in my backyard, twenty or so yards from the house. It would be made of wood — pine preferably — ten feet square, with a door on one side and four windows, windows I could fling open in the summer and crack an inch or two spring and fall. No bathroom. But a coffee pot might be nice. Since I’d need electricity anyway for my computer and a few lamps, why not include a single-cup brewer? I take cream in my coffee, but including a mini-fridge to store it seems excessive. I’ll grab some from the house.

I’d want a desk and an ergonomically-friendly chair as its mate. On the desk would be one of the lamps, my laptop, a keyboard, monitor, a photo or two, notepads, mechanical pencils, and current paper research. I’d position the desk to face the River, the door to my right, the wall behind me windowless.

Bookshelves would be lined with books about writing, books needed for research, novels of writers I admire, novels I’ve written, novels I plan on reading. I would alphabetize certain sections, but not others. I wouldn’t arrange the books by color, either. A comfortable chair would be angled in a corner, with an ottoman facing it. This is where I would sit when thinking, reading, or napping, a blanket resting on the nearby bookshelf, handy for chillier days. I’d position a standing lamp directly behind the chair for extra light. Another lamp would sit on a bookshelf in the nearby corner of the room. All of them would have three-way lightbulbs, so I could have as much or little light as I chose on any given morning.

I’d be able to use the internet – for research and some amusement here and there. I’d be assiduous in my studio, but not rigidly so. A little distraction can reset a stalled thought process. Would I bring my phone to the studio? Maybe. I also might leave it in the house. The difference between that well-time diversion and all-the-time temptation isn’t as obvious as I’d like to think. A comfortable and classy carpet would grace the floor of the shed, as would small recycling and trash baskets. But I don’t think I’d generate a lot of garbage, as it wouldn’t be a place I’d eat more than a nut ball or a cup of yogurt – another reason to nix the mini-fridge.

Oh, and I like the idea of the floor resting on a frame foundation, just a foot or so off the ground. A couple of steps would take me from the lawn over the six-inch threshold into the studio – a quick and easy transition from home life to writing oasis. Can you see it? A peaceful place to think, write, and be, if only for a few hours a day.

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