If a writer truly wants to write, she'll do it wherever
she is, at the kitchen table, in bed, at the grocery
store, or while sitting on the bleachers at her son's
Little League game. Ideas come at the least convenient
times. I confess to sudden inspirations in the middle
of sex, in the shower, during the pastor's Sunday
sermon, and while driving 75 miles an hour down I-5. As
soon as I can, I pull out a notepad, business card, the
church bulletin or whatever bit of paper is handy.
Eventually, in order to pull all these stray words and
sentences into anything publishable, I need to find a
more appropriate place, properly equipped to write,
rewrite, and handle the business of writing. Virginia
Woolf proclaimed that a writer needs "a room of one's
own." It is as true today as it was in 1929.
In the years I worked for newspapers, I rarely had my
own office. Most of the time, I was lucky to have a
cubicle in the midst of a dozen other cubicles and
often had to share my space with reporters and editors
who worked other shifts. It was noisy and crowded, but
I wrote anyway.
When my husband and I first married, I wrote in the
laundry room of our mobile home. With its long counter
and lots of cupboards, it worked quite well. The washer
and dryer provided a comforting warmth and a steady
chuga chuga that blocked out other noises.
As my business grew, so did my need for space. My
husband also had a home business as a tax preparer, and
we quickly discovered we were office-incompatible.
After the mobile home, we purchased a four-bedroom
house, even though there were only two of us, with
occasional visiting stepchildren. If you believe in
your writing, if that is what you intend to do with
your life, that's how serious you have to be about it.
You have to be willing to invest money and put up with
the naysayers who think you might be crazy.
Not everyone can afford a separate room, nor is it
worth the effort and expense if you only write
occasionally. But it is important to claim a space that
is dedicated to your writing and nothing else, a space
where you can set up your computer and your files and
leave your papers lying around, knowing they will be
there when you return. Ideally, you should have a room
with a door, but your writing space can be a corner, a
closet, or a section of a room divided off by a
bookcase or partition.
Some writers prefer to write outside the home. You
could arrange to use a friend's house while they're at
work. Or put all of your writing materials into a
portable file box and go to work at the library or a
local coffee shop. But there is no place like home,
where you can work in your pajamas, keep the family
dogs and cats company, stir the soup simmering on the
stove every now and then, and still be a real writer.
What do you put in this office of yours? Bare minimum,
you need a desk and a chair, a computer, a printer, and
a telephone. Beyond this depends on personality, space
and resources. An online newsletter called The Verb
(www.readingwriters.com/TheVERB.htm )
regularly asks published writers what they have on
their desks. Most offer a varied collection of books,
papers, food and drink, inspirational sayings,
keepsakes, cats, geckos, goldfish, and more.
My office is bursting with papers, file boxes and
binders, old birthday cards, calendars, photos, plants,
award plaques, phone books, pens, floppy disks, and
camera gear. There's a small stereo, with tons of tapes
and CDs. We removed the closet doors and shoved three
four-drawer file cabinets into the space. In my
husband's office down the hall, we have a copy machine
and a fax.
I close my office door, not only to keep out the
husband, various visitors, and the call of unwashed
clothes and dirty dishes, but also because I'm not a
quiet writer. I read everything out loud as I write and
have discussions with myself about what my character is
going to do or how this article should be organized.
Having the door closed also narrows down my world; it
forces me to stay in my seat and work. In fact, a
miniature wind-chime attached to the door jingles
whenever I try to sneak out.
Although the door is closed, the window is open to a
view of trees, wild berries, sky, squirrels and birds.
I often pause to look out. It keeps me grounded in the
real world without taking my attention away from my
work.
Guilt is a wonderful motivator. If you insist on having
this space, then you'll feel guilty if you don't use
it. Half the battle in being a writer is showing up. It
helps when you know where to go. It is also a wonderful
feeling at the end of the day when you turn off the
computer and the lights, close the door behind you, and
go back out into the world, your work done for the day.
Copyright 2005 Sue Fagalde Lick
About the Author: SUE FAGALDE LICK is a former newspaper editor turned full-time freelance writer. She has published four books, countless articles and many poems and stories. She teaches writing workshops online and at Oregon Coast Community College. Visit her web site at http://www.suelick.com.
A Real Writer Needs a Real Office
