Tuesday, March 6, 2007
My working space isn't working
Meet Smudge, who is no longer sitting on my desk as she is in the picture, but pacing back and forth in front of my computer screen. If there are typos in this, blame her and not me. I wish I could say that she is my muse. She's not. But she's a friendly face and a bit of noise when I'm feeling particularly alone in my lovely office and the words aren't flowing.
I started a new book this morning, which explains the relatively clean state of my desk. I always clear my work area when I start a new book. It lasts about five minutes. Apparently I work well in chaos.
Like Ellyn, I used to live and write somewhere else. In my case, it was Long Island. This is kind of ironic, since when I lived on Long Island I wrote historicals that took place in the midwest, and now that I live in much more rural upstate New York, my books are set on Long Island. Go figure! It took leaving Long Island to see it with an author's eye. It's a very funny place, which accounts for my new hysterical mysteries.
Somehow when I'm writing I'm back there, at the mall, driving on the Long Island Expressway, eating at the diner.
Like Donna, I write where I happen to be--I once finished a wonderful historical romance in a store room of a computer company in Taiwan. I finished a novella waiting in the jury pool at the courthouse in Mineola. Have laptop, will travel. . .which is a good thing, because I'm expecting my first grandchild and the chances are I'll be at the kids place on the other side of the country typing with one hand while I'll balance a baby over my shoulder.
Maybe I'll practice with the cat!