I reorganized the house a bit this weekend. I moved my writing desk from my big office into the little nook in my bedroom. It’s just in front of the walk-in closet with a big window in front of it that looks out on the neighbor’s pretty plum tree. Plus, it’s a prime Anydots “Business” site (she has business in all the windows. She can’t cuddle right now, she has to go), which means she’s continually hopping on and off the sill and chittering at the birds who fly past.
I’ve long had a hard time writing in the other office. There’s just so much space, and it never helped that it sort of became the Cat Room, Craft Dump Place, and General Storage Area (read: always a mess). I always did better at our Quail Creek apartment where I wrote in a large closet – no window. So I’m hoping that this will bring me that closed-in-walls, cozy feeling I used to have there. I mean, I used to do 4 hours easy on the weekends. Now? I hardly ever write at home, just in the snippets I can snatch in the breaks of my work day. This spot has plenty of outlets for the computer, too, and all it needs now is a small desk lamp for late nights.
The best part of figuring out this new space was the curating. I have 2 slim shelves that are supposed to be for propping up artwork and not for storing things, a slim desk, and scarce wall space. I will miss having my big metal C and the picture my grandmother drew of me, but there isn’t room for them (and is it weird to have a picture of yourself in your bedroom? Even if you were 14 at the time? It might be… I’ll find another place for it). Instead I have my book angel, pens spilling out of a tall espresso cup with a mysterious black figure on it, the Puffin In Bloom version of Little Women, the Jane Austen clothbound hardback set from Penguin, all of my Lord of the Rings journals, a slew of motivational hand-lettered quotes taped to the edge of the shelves (somewhat teeth marked by Miss Dots), my clock, my first NaNoWriMo winner’s certificate, and the Chinese lacquered box that I keep my fountain pen ink refills in. It has everything I need, with lots of inspiration included.
I may also add a real shelf above the window at some later date, depending on how I feel about it all. I’ve been keeping a journal of some sort since I was in 3rd grade, though I didn’t get serious and regular about it until high school. The books are many, and that crap has to go somewhere. I’m not getting rid of any of it on the propensity that someone will donate it to the Redlands Library when I die and some historian in 200 years will be very glad that I took the time to write down my weekend chores, though they will have to look up “mansplain” and “Bernie Bros” because no one has used those terms in more than a century – the latter especially.
I’m pleased. I did a little writing yesterday and it felt right. So here’s to being more productive in the future. I shall now be able to seize the book.