When Jenna left for college, I decided to use her room as my office. Knowing she would be back for winter and spring breaks and summertime, I only took over her desk.
Still, her room is a prime piece of real estate in our house. And it’s been a long time since I had a quiet place all to myself. Using her room also had the added benefit of giving me a reason to go in there on a regular basis. When I spent time in her room, I felt her presence in our home while she was away at school. I didn’t like how dark and clean it was all the time. So, repurposing her room into my indoor “she shed” made sense to me.
It didn’t take long to set it up. I found a new home for her bat mitzvah centerpiece from six years ago and cleared out a drawer of her miscellany. I cleaned out my overflowing bookshelves of every writing book I own and relocated them to her shelf. Underneath her camp photos and school track ribbons, I set up my laptop, brought in my favorite pens and blank journals and got to work.
Every night, I closed her bedroom door, put on my music and let the waves of creativity drown me. And when I was cursed with writer’s block, I’d lie down on her queen-size bed and read a book or take a nap. It was the perfect office space for me.
And then the pandemic hit us all. School closed for the semester, and I had to relinquish my coveted writing space back to her. Now, my current “office” is wherever I put my laptop. My choices are sitting on my own bed with a blue Yogibo pillow chair propped up for my back or sitting on a barstool at my kitchen counter. Neither one of these spaces is ideal. There is no place to put my writing books and prompt decks. I can’t leave out my favorite pens because they will most definitely disappear. And yes, I admit that I’m a bit of a snob about what pens I use for writing. I just can’t write from my heart with a cheap promo pen from Weight Watchers in my hand.
This may sound completely crazy to many of you who read this, but I know my fellow bloggers will understand.
E.B. White once said, “A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without putting a word on paper.”
He’s probably right. Truthfully, it doesn’t matter where I write. But before the pandemic, I was etching out a solid writing routine. And now, I miss being able to go to a dedicated space where my only focus is putting words on the page. The kitchen is a high traffic area and not a great place for one to concentrate.
Once we are free from quarantine, I’m sure I’ll find a nice neighborhood coffee shop to support where I can sit and create something special. And soon enough, both my kids will leave the nest, and I’ll have my choice of writing desks.
I’m not in any rush, but having that writing space was nice for a while.