Tayari's Blog: Where Do I Write?
Posted by TayariJones on February 13, 2005 04:45 PM
Filed under
The Writing Life
Although writing is a sacred activity for me, my writing room is the second-grubbiest space in my home. Luckily, my muse is no diva.
My publicist, Lauren Cerand, the blogista, referred me to several cool blogs and other sites outlining artists' workspaces. I followed all the links, saw some very cool locations, and was instantly impressed. Here's a sampling: Wooster Collective, a description of Faulkner's home, and this tour of homes of important writers. Be sure to click here and then scratch your head saying "I thought writers were suppossed to be poor." (I've got some theories about the correlation between material wealth and creativity, but I'll save them for later.)
The idea was that I would include a digital snapshot along with this post. But my workspace is just not photogenic enough for all of that. The desk and two tables on which I do most of my creative work are set up in the basement-- not a sexy, wet-bar, air-hockey sort of basement-- but a regular basement, the kind that comes in handy during tornadoes but floods when it rains. It's sort of dark down here but I've installed five or six cheap hallogen lamps to brighten things up. On the desks and tables are no fewer than 100 pencils, three fountain pens, a couple bottles of ink, my two computers and LOTS of paper.
There are more comfortable rooms in my house, but I don't really need to be comfortable when I write. Writing itself comforts me. (Corny, I know. But very true!) To do my thing, I only require privacy enough to be alone with my thoughts. (Remind me to blog about the my very first attempt at a novel; I was about twenty-three. I composed the whole thing on my lunch hours, hidden in a bathroom stall with my laptop.)
Sometimes visitors ask to see my writing area. When this happens, I lead them to a brightly painted room lined with bookshelves. Their eyes immediately fall upon a pretty antique secretary I scored at a yard sale a few years ago. "Oh!" they say. "Such a cheery room! You must get so much work done. Is that a real Blenko vase? I love the smell of the potpourri in here!"
On these occaisions, I offer only a coy smile and a shy nod.
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There are 1 comments on "Where Do I Write?". If you'd like to leave a comment, click here to jump down to the comments entry form.
Comment #1, by Claudia
Hey Tayari!
I've offered up this site to several writers, who were simply enchanted and some wanted to know how they could blog.
Anyway, I'd love to know about your first attempts at a novel, so don't forget.
My eyes couldn't last long in your writing basement. I write, in my new condo, in an upstairs bedroom-turned-office, a charming, open and bright space, large, the windows looking out towards Stone Mountain. It's empty outside of my postage-stamp-sized, Super-Walmart desk and comfortable chair and piles of paper. That's fine for me now, until, that is, I invest in a comfortable desk and chair and sofa, because my office will not only be home to my writing, but also to my other interests: photography and clothing design.
I write in spaces that are free of live phones and televisions and music. I love to hear the music from other rooms, not in my head, that close. I limit the number of books in the space, as I am tempted to read when I am supposed to be writing. But I close the door and shut the world OUT!
I understand your comment about writing being a comfort. It is for me too. Sometimes it is so much more. It is my lover, my passion, my challenger, my knight and princess, my past, my future, my NOW.
T, do a blog on how you feel when you fall off your writing schedule, when you can't or don't write. I've stopped beating up on myself when I don't write. Whatever will be, will be. I realize I return when I am supposed to return, and continue loving me.
I was 28 when I wrote and published my first novel. It arrived along with my son, who is now 18 and enjoying his first year of college. I would write over the summer, daily, when the last child left my class. During the year, I wrote on the weekends, from breakfast to bed. Determined, I did it!
Now, I write when I sit down, whenever that is, where that is. I carry a journal and novel like Prada purses. I write poetry and recite at coffeehouses. I recite for friends...sometimes...on the phone and at dinner parties. In short, I do what I want to do. I have stopped fighting, have begun to flow with the currents of my life...wherever that takes me. I trust the Goddess, listen to the voice that communicates from my soul.
June 17, 2005 04:09 PM