A fellow writer recently asked me what I need to write. I need to channel Stephen King or Ivan Doig and write as often and as well as they do. But alas, that ain’t gonna happen. For now, I’ll take my little rituals and little space in our guest room and click-clack away. Notice the space heater . . . this is Colorado and The Husband and I are on opposite ends of the thermometer. I keep my room at a roasty-toasty temp and no one can tell me to turn it down. (It also keeps anyone from bugging me while up I’m here writing.) I found a table at a flea market, painted it, and wedged it in the corner. On the oppose wall, is a closet full of supplies and books.
On my crookedly hung bulletin board (I have no idea how I managed that), I have notes, a picture my niece drew, a newspaper photograph I’d like to paint someday, and various little things. (Yes, that’s me on the Big Wheels.)
These are a few things that I don’t necessarily need to have in order to write, but they make me smile: a ceramic bird I received after my father passed, my prayer flags from the Shambhala Center, and the creepy, faceless figurine called the “Angel of Hope.”
I don’t know that I really need anything other than a pencil (mechanical, please) and paper, in order to write, but this space works for me. It’s peaceful and allows me to do what I love. The rest is up to me.
Do you have any writing rituals? What do you need to be a productive writer?
Dang, that explains a lot.
Ambient space music is all I need . . . oh, and much more time!
Time? What’s that? Is it like cash? Because I never have enough of that either.
Yes, something like “Time is money.”
Yes, I think a retreat would be perfect right about now . . . on a beach, with a margarita. Although the most writing I’d get done is writing my name in the sand.
The only thing I need to be a productive writer is another retreat, so I’m scheduling a few of my home and library mini-retreats over the next two months. I don’t have any special rituals…except that I always begin with two games of Spider Solitaire. 😀
Absolutely,April. Handmade on a couple of found wood pieces and planted in the front yard like a tiny sign.
I love that, Jerry. Lucky kids, I tell you.
My space is filled with memorabilia of my many outdoor adventures and some early Americana to remind me of my Ohio farm roots: a Bushman bow from the Namib desert, a Civil War powder horn, a quartz rock paperweight from the Pawnee Grassland, grotesquely twisted bush roots from the Kirthar Range in Pakistan’s Sind Desert, a plaque – “Best Father of the Year” – from my kids when they were but little tykes, A mounted corn sack advertizing my Grandpa’s farm in the 1950s, and a watercolor of our cabin up at Pingree Park.
That’s wonderful, Jerry. I have a feeling that the “Best Father of the Year” plaque is the most treasured item.
What a lovely space! I also need a space heater, some inspirational books…and to clean off my desk already!
Thanks, Jenny. This post did force me to clean up a little before taking the picture . . . I had a few more piles on the desk and on the floor!