O is for Office

            O is for Office.

Slightly outdated picture. I've moved things around.

            Mine is a corner of my room. I’ve got room for the desk, my little bookcase, and a three drawer storage bin that my printer sits on top of. All of that is right next to a window, but not directly in front of the window. I’ve got my lamp, my paper and pens, and my laptop. But these days, I’m only at that “office” part time.

            Last night while playing catch-up and straightening up at my desk, I came across a blogabout having a writing space, an office. Interesting, given current circumstances.

            Where I’m at now is best described as a transitional phase. A week here, a week there, working and taking my nephew to school every other week. I’m half moved in with Bear and only use my writing space every other week. But this challenge has come along in the middle of all that and is going well. It turns out, all I need to write is motivation and a place where I can sit to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard. It’s still nice to think of a dream office though.

            Mine would probably be reasonable sized, with a door that can cut me off from the rest of the house when I need it. I like natural lighting, which puts Bear and I at odds sometimes because he likes his cave, and I’m not being metaphorical. I want a big desk with plenty of room to spread out with my laptop, notebooks, loose papers, and all other supplies. I have to have a printer, of course. I’d like a big bookcase or two to hold my favorites and notebooks/manuscripts.  Radio with good speakers and a hook-up for my MP3 player is a must. Small TV with Netflix access would be great. Some days, background noise is a must for writing. Others, I want quiet.

            What writing really boils down to is this: I need something to write with and music. At the most basic, that’s what I need to do my thing with word wrestling. So even though I won’t have a writing space with Bear for the time being, I can still scribble away when the mood strikes.

            There’s an episode of Roseanne where her family converted the basement into an office for her birthday. They gave her peace and quiet, but she couldn’t write. At the very end of the episode, Dan finds her upstairs, beside their son’s bed, scribbling away in a notebook. Different writers need different things to make their magic, but the true writer finds ways to make it happen anywhere.