Confession: When I first got serious about writing, I did the coffee shop thing. I’d take my laptop down to the corner Panera and park myself in front of the gas fireplace with the other soup-lovers and pound away at the keys, feeling more confident with every passing minute that I was a Real Author. I suppose I was more sizzle than steak, at that point, to tell the truth.
Then, when we bought our house a few years back I began hunting for a spot to call my own. I set my sights on the shed out back. I called it a “studio,” painted the walls, hung a few pictures, and set to work. I soon discovered the Studio was not as glamorous as I had envisioned. In the summers, it was pretty hot. And there was the spider problem. The winters in Western New York? Forget about it. So I moved to the loft above the garage. It wasn’t insulated, but it was better protected against the elements. A summer passed out there, the weather began to turn, and I noticed the temperatures in November creeping lower and lower. No matter; I bought a space heater, threw on fingerless-gloves, and kept pounding away at the keys. But when Christmas vacation arrived, I knew this was folly; it was time to head indoors. Keeping a long story short, I wound up in a corner of our walk-in closet. It was cramped; it was cozy; but, it was also private. So, I rolled in the writing desk, set out a lamp and a few knickknacks, and kept working.
It was during my stint stuffed into the closet, my back to my wife’s wedding dress, that I had an epiphany about the importance – or not – of having a Special Writing Spot.
