The big secret is the ability to stay in the room. — Ron Carlson
There are days when staying in the room is indeed the most difficult part of writing. Life pounds on the door; thoughts scurry about in opposing directions; responsibilities shout through the walls, reminding us of forgotten or postponed duties; Imagination sits on a chair in the corner and laughs hysterically without muttering a word. It's difficult to shut out the distractions and simply concentrate on the writing.
But some days it isn't staying in the room that's difficult. For me getting into the room tends to be the hardest part.
I have an office. Once I sit down in it, writing becomes easier. It's noting fancy, just a spare bedroom that is no longer being used for sleeping. The desk is a very old table I bought at an auction. The chair was a Christmas present. I have several book shelves that my father gave me when he cleaned out his garage. They hold a mish-mash of reference and science fiction books, along with some classics. There are also old magazines, a set of encyclopedias, and way too many office supplies. The room doesn't look like much, but it's comfortable and it's conducive to writing. The biggest problem I have is walking up the stairs to get to it.
For years I dreamed of having a designated writing space; of being able to have a room completely dedicate to the sole task of creating. Over the years, I've written in the dining room, the living room, the bed room, the front porch, and occasionally the back yard and the car. It's difficult to stay focused when all the distractions of life are neatly displayed no matter where your gaze falls.The office was to be my sanctuary, my place to escape the world and all of the things in it that steal away bits of my attention and inspiration. This designated room minimizes those effects.
But going there, and sitting down in that chair, is sometimes more difficult than any other aspect of writing. It's like the creative monster in my mind dreads that place of order and business. The lack of non-writing related chew toys is frightening for a monster of such mythical proportions as my often maddening beast and muse, Chaos. It fights entering the room like the dog fights my attempts to put him in the bathtub. I try to make it an inviting place, but that isn't always enough. Chaos is very smart. The room means it's time to work. Monsters don't always like to work. At least my monster doesn't like to sometimes. There are claw marks on the door frame to prove it.
But writing isn't an occupation for the faint of heart. It's an obsession fueled by passion and commitment. It's a frame of mind that requires time and effort and sometimes a whip and a chair.
But when all else fails, it helps that I keep a big bowl of candy on my desk.
There are days when staying in the room is indeed the most difficult part of writing. Life pounds on the door; thoughts scurry about in opposing directions; responsibilities shout through the walls, reminding us of forgotten or postponed duties; Imagination sits on a chair in the corner and laughs hysterically without muttering a word. It's difficult to shut out the distractions and simply concentrate on the writing.
But some days it isn't staying in the room that's difficult. For me getting into the room tends to be the hardest part.
I have an office. Once I sit down in it, writing becomes easier. It's noting fancy, just a spare bedroom that is no longer being used for sleeping. The desk is a very old table I bought at an auction. The chair was a Christmas present. I have several book shelves that my father gave me when he cleaned out his garage. They hold a mish-mash of reference and science fiction books, along with some classics. There are also old magazines, a set of encyclopedias, and way too many office supplies. The room doesn't look like much, but it's comfortable and it's conducive to writing. The biggest problem I have is walking up the stairs to get to it.
For years I dreamed of having a designated writing space; of being able to have a room completely dedicate to the sole task of creating. Over the years, I've written in the dining room, the living room, the bed room, the front porch, and occasionally the back yard and the car. It's difficult to stay focused when all the distractions of life are neatly displayed no matter where your gaze falls.The office was to be my sanctuary, my place to escape the world and all of the things in it that steal away bits of my attention and inspiration. This designated room minimizes those effects.
But going there, and sitting down in that chair, is sometimes more difficult than any other aspect of writing. It's like the creative monster in my mind dreads that place of order and business. The lack of non-writing related chew toys is frightening for a monster of such mythical proportions as my often maddening beast and muse, Chaos. It fights entering the room like the dog fights my attempts to put him in the bathtub. I try to make it an inviting place, but that isn't always enough. Chaos is very smart. The room means it's time to work. Monsters don't always like to work. At least my monster doesn't like to sometimes. There are claw marks on the door frame to prove it.
But writing isn't an occupation for the faint of heart. It's an obsession fueled by passion and commitment. It's a frame of mind that requires time and effort and sometimes a whip and a chair.
But when all else fails, it helps that I keep a big bowl of candy on my desk.
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