My Writing Nook

I love my husband. When we got married I don’t feel like I understood how seriously he takes my dreams and creative needs. He asks about my main character as if she’s a person out in the world (“So, what’s Jane up to these days?”) and then listens when I talk about this neurotic person I created out of my tics and fears. He’s even starting to understand that when I start getting especially neurotic it might be time for me to go write something, just to get thoughts out of my head. This is huge because I am the person who needs permission to go be creative when I feel like there’s something else I should be doing. And, really, there’s always something that needs doing so there’s always good reasons I don’t have the time or thought space to be sitting in front of a computer, putting words out into the world.

I thought that maybe if I had a dedicated space I would feel the need to use it. So he helped me create a space.

Over the Christmas break, in the midst of hanging shelves and playing video games, we rearranged our basement. Partly because it wasn’t seeing a lot of use and partly to create a Writing Nook. A round table by a window, full of things that make me feel creative and inspired. I’ve got old notebooks cozied up against empty notebooks and a piece of the trunk of our quirky Christmas tree I want to turn into a set of bookends. My first draft sits next to a book on writing with a candle in a mug and lots of space for cups of coffee and a laptop. And then Jonathan even made sure I had the space heater down by my feet because it gets right cold down there in that basement.

I got up this morning, made myself some breakfast and headed down to my Writing Nook. I lit the candle, shoveled scrambled eggs into my mouth while I read what there is of my second draft, eager to get to the writing. Work goes slow as I stare out the window, sipping coffee, trying to find the exact right word and not its second cousin. And when I had run out of words, and coffee, I found I still had creativity left for this post.

There is something about the space that gives me permission to take this time to be creative. I mean, if this wasn’t a big part of my life, would we have a dedicated space to it? Of course not! Therefore… I know, it’s a mess of rationalizations, but sometimes you just need to psych yourself out to get to the place where you can create something that makes you feel happy and alive. Stephen King says that writing has made the rest of his life so much better because it made him happy and then he takes that happiness back into his marriage and his kids and his life. I understand that perfectly so if it takes a little trickery to get me around my guilt then I am all for it.

And thanks to my man, my feet will stay nice and toasty while I do it.