Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Location, Location, Location! Where Does an Aspiring Writer Write?

Until very recently, my husband, our puppy, and I lived in a tiny two-room city apartment. There was no "home office" for either of us. There also wasn't a dining room, living room, kitchen, family room, or guest room. There was the bedroom and the everything else room. And in the latter, all cooking, dining, living, working, TV-watching, and visiting took place. My writing, consulting, and private yoga sessions also took place there.

And for those seven years, I longed for the time that I would one day have a home office. My very own SPACE.

Then we moved into a larger apartment, and finally I have my very own designated office. True, it is technically tiny--the width of one window--BUT it is mine. All mine. Heaven!

Drunk on the thrill of having a room entirely dedicated to my liking, I immediately became fixated on painting it orange.

Why, you ask? Because orange is the color of creativity, energy, passion. Buzz! All qualities I wanted to incorporate into my writing. I love orange! I became obsessed with orange. I thought incessantly about the many virtues of orange. So I found the perfect shade and I painted over the sage green the last owners had...and it looked kind of muddy-greeny-orange-y. So I painted six more layers. And finally I had my glorious orange office.

...But for some reason, I found I could not work in the orange office.

My sister said it reminded her of a taqueria. And not in a good way.

My husband said he felt like he was inside a glowing, florescent pumpkin.

My friend the interior decorator clutched his head, pronounced that only Andy Warhol could love me. He tossed his designer cashmere scarf over one shoulder and insisted that this must be my "naughty room."

I don't know what that means and I hope I never find out.

So...I re-painted. Four coats of cheerful, pretty yellow. Why, you ask? Because yellow is energy! Fun! Creativity! I love yellow.

...But I found I could not work in the yellow office. It was distracting. It was too bright. It just wasn't right.

Cursing the paint gods, I capitulated and realized I would have to paint a third time. With a sigh that could be heard in Alaska, I rolled up my sleeves, girded my loins, and  deferred to the expert, my friend the interior designer. We ended up with  a beautiful, warm, sandy shade of beige. Together with the bright white trim around my one window, and the addition of a curvy-legged desk, I finally have an office that I can work in.

What about you? Where do you work? Cafes? Home office? Top secret other location?

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