My work space depends on where I am and what’s happening in my life. As I write this, my laptop is perched on a TV tray and I’m sitting on a hard wooden folding chair facing a wall where childhood pictures of me and my brothers are arranged. My father has been experiencing some health issues and needs some tender loving care from his daughter. While he snoozes, I write.
Hey, when a writer is under contract she writes. . .whatever circumstance life throws at her. I have found myself writing in the oddest places lately; doctors’ waiting rooms, hospital rooms, the car. It isn’t glamorous, but I’m doing what I love, and not many people can say that so I’m going to suck it up and roll with the punches.
Most of each spring and summer I can be found at my beach place. My writing space there has a wide sliding glass door that opens to a gorgeous view of Assawoman Bay. Fishing boats, sailboats, herons, sea gulls, and puffy white clouds. The atmosphere is peaceful as well as inspirational, and I’m most at home there by the water. The Atlantic Ocean is a short block and a half away and I spend an hour each morning and evening walking barefoot on the beach. To me, it's close to heaven.
At home in northern Delaware, I have a regular, run-of-the-mill office with a cherry wood desk and matching bookcases. It’s a cozy space that overlooks a lush wooded area. I’m visited by blue jays and cardinals and cute little yellow chickadees. I’ve seen woodpeckers and owls, too. I’m only a mile of so from the C&D Canal, so blue herons and other sea birds often fly through. Sunlight streams through my windows, and I feel blessed that I have a space that I can call my own to create my stories.
I used to think I needed to be in one of my special places, either my office at home or at the beach, in order to write. I was adamant that I needed order and quiet and lots of alone time. But I have found that I can write anywhere. I’ve learned that my creativity is like a cool, refreshing spring located within that I can tap into at any time, no matter where I am physically. In a waiting room, my car, or staring out at the bay, I can get lost in my imagination and the real world seems to melt away. (And I actually make money doing this! I am one lucky woman.)
Ah, my dad just called my name. The real world awaits! Until next time. .