The places where monks used to go to write back in the days when only a chosen few knew how to write, were called “scriptoriums.” These were sacred places, and the work they did considered holy. For years we’ve read about garrets and studios and hidden away cabins in hidden away woods where writers go for quiet and solitude. Some of us even make pilgrimages to these iconic places. I’ve longed for my own private cabin with a magnificent view, a fainting couch, and an inkboy to grind my ink.
But instead, I settled for my little glass-topped kitchen table, which is where, over the last couple of years, I filled nearly ten spiral-bound notebooks with the hand-written, first draft of my memoir, finding my way there nearly every morning with my cup of coffee and my memories.
My table when I wasn’t writing there.
When I finished the hand-written draft and was ready to begin working on the computer, the little table in my kitchen wasn’t large enough for the notebook, the notes, and the computer. So I moved to the corner of my apartment where I do my “day job.” But something happened there. Or rather, not much happened there. The writing wasn’t going as well or as easily as it had in the kitchen and this difficulty didn’t have to do with the writing itself; it was all about the space.
I was distracted by my “day job.” By the desk and the chair and the file folders and the iMac with its looming monitor that held images of even more files. I didn’t go to my desk every morning and light my candle and pour my coffee and begin my work. In fact, when I went there, more often than not, I started working the “day job,” answering emails and organizing notes for workshops or, sigh, scrolling through Facebook.
I longed for the mornings in the kitchen—the view out the windows, the humming of the refrigerator, the routine of the writing.
So I did the only thing I knew to do: create a new space. I consulted a few friends, one who knows her way around feng shui, and within a few days I’d shopped IKEA and had delivered the parts and pieces for a new table and drawer-affair and a new chair. The afternoon they were delivered I stayed up until midnight putting together all the parts and pieces. Now my mornings are back to my normal—coffee, candle, and writing. This time on the computer and with plenty of space. Ahhhhhh.
What does your writing space look like? Send me a photo. Meantime, I thought you might enjoy a photographic tour of some other writers’ spaces.
Here’s a capacious blog by Jared A. Brock featuring “100+ Famous Authors and Their Writing Spaces.” https://writingcooperative.com/100-famous-authors-and-their-writing-spaces-8ee25c50c927
and here’s a post on Poets & Writers website with the results from writers who responded to P&W’s request for photos of their writing spaces. https://www.pw.org/content/writing_spaces
and, of course, there’s a Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/dalyght/writers-in-their-writing-space/?lp=true
Finally, here’s a link to Jill Krementz’s classic book, The Writer’s Desk, which features beautiful photographs of fifty-five prominent authors and their work space. https://www.pw.org/best-books/the_writers_desk
Show me yours.
Ok, so you have a new desk, but with the computer right there, how do you keep from “answering emails and organizing notes for workshops or, sigh, scrolling through Facebook”?
The only way I can write uninterrupted is to take notebook and pen and head out to a coffee shop sans electronic temptation. Did I mention I have zilch self discipline when it comes to the dingdingding of devices, and too much curiosity about FOMO???
Hi Mary, thanks for writing. I know all about taking the notebook and pen to the coffee shop to write and how really good stuff can happen there. And I did write the first draft of my memoir that way, although mostly mornings at that kitchen table. But the thing about the computer now taking the place of the notebooks at the kitchen table is really a strange thing; I’m not even tempted to look at emails or Facebook or any thing other than my manuscript while I’m there writing. And then I put that computer away and come to my other desk for my “day job.” I think the space in the kitchen must have some powerful mojo to keep me from going all curious. I consider it some kind of magic or miracle or intervention from some kindly Muse who’s on my side and wants me to finish writing the memoir. Whatever it is, it’s working. For now.
Great post Judy, really interesting and thought provoking. I love the links you detailed – it was a delight to see so many photographs of authors’ sitting at their desks. My writing space has always had to fit into the circumstances of my life at any given moment in time – probably like many other writers – so I’ve had the opportunity to experiment. From tidy, spartan, minimalist spaces to book lined, book cluttered ‘ studios.‘ Currently I’m somewhere in the middle ( please see photograph ). I suppose I could say – because I always carry a notebook and pen – that I have a number of writing ‘stations’ from the old wooden table that sits in the garden to the café where I lunch. I try never to allow a passing thought to go unnoticed so out comes my notebook and I’m off!
Thanks, Michael. I’m glad to know you’re a “voyeur” as I am, enjoying a look at other writers’ work places and seeing bits of their lives. Your wonderful descriptions of your various and varied writing places reminds me of a quote by Richard Ford in “A Writer’s Book of Days,” which he describes as more of a concept than a thing. “It’s like the ‘Belize desk’ at the State Department,: he says, “an idea more than a place you actually sit at.”
I’m sorry I didn’t get to see the photograph you mentioned. Did you try to post one to the Comment?
Hi Judy
I tried to post my pix by the ‘copy and paste ‘ method but unfortunately it didn’t work. There doesn’t appear to be an uploading facility on your blog so I will have to pass on this.
Hoping your writing is still flowing Judy…
Namaste
Michael
I love to write either in my bed or sitting on the chesterfield. Writing is an engagement of the world of my dreams or musings. Then I engage in what is called Active Imagination whereby, I create the space for the characters of my dream and the dream scene to speak freely.
It is the engagement of the soul through the images and scenes. Inviting these images to have full voice, thus a dialogue between the image and myself ensues.
Only when the dialogue is complete, do I move to the computer.
It is very interesting for me, to be relaxed, so that an openness and flow remain so that I do not engage the mental side of my brain.
How lovely to read this Eileen. I really like your description of Active Imagination and how you allow the “dream” world to come alive. Beautiful. This is how creativity works, I think, that dialogue between imagination and “writer” self. Thanks for sharing this.
Hi Judy,
I have three. The dining room table where I usually work. The little table ahead of it where my art supplies are stored. Both of these allow me to look out at the locust trees and hills beyond. And my desk behind all that. I want to get a desk like yours and then I can get rid of mammoth here, my father made it but it is huge and meant for a house, not a small apartment.
And let’s not forget my favourite coffee place — three places there too.
What direction does your window face? Mine faces east and if I leave my spider plant there without filtered light it goes anaemic whereas yours is not. Hmm.
Cheers,
Hey Linda, thanks for all this and for sending photos to my email inbox. Love looking at other writers work spaces. So does IKEA have stores near you? Or you can order online? Except I couldn’t carry the heavy boxes up my stairs. Had to have my helpful landlords carry them.
I also like to write in coffee houses and have several I go to. But it’s my morning routine that was fading and I didn’t like that at all. I’m so glad I found my place again.
Re: my windows: in the kitchen, that window the spider plant hangs in faces north, there’s also a west-facing window in that corner. Also this spider plant is what was labeled a “curly” spider plant at the plant store so it looks so much more verdant than the more common variety. It does a good job of blocking out all the spaghetti on the powerpole that was partly my view before I got it. (spaghetti meaning wiring, not that stuff you Italians are famous for)
Hahahaha Judy, love that spaghetti idea. It is too. And thanks for the name curly spider which I will get in the spring. This one is propped with hard plastic straws as it keeps throwing itself out of the pot so it can play with its more grounded kin at night while I sleep and snore and dream.
Behind me is a file cabinet I almost threw out (I have to stop doing that) and beside that the desk. However. I saw your cute little white one and decided I want one but it isn’t practical for this Huge Monitor. And the tower would likely get knocked off the file cabinet first time I trip over my feet or something. Yep we have Ikea and lots of thrift stores where people like me throw out good stuff. I think it’s an addiction you know: toss and replace.
You don’t have elevators in your building? Yikes. Good thing you’re still young and strong.
Hi Linda,
That little white cabinet still isn’t filled, except for top drawer which holds my journal and box of pens of various colors. Slowly I’m adding this and that, and you can’t see the plastic storage box that holds the hanging files I hope to fill with chapter after chapter of the memoir.
As for having elevators in my building… I live in an apartment built atop what used to be a garage with just a single set of stairs climbing up to my tiny little landing/porch and door. It’s just me in the back yard of my friends and landlords.