Writers need a place they can call their own to create. I struggled for years wondering what kind of a place this would be and I made a list.
room in a cottage
under the pergola
a shady place under a weeping willow tree
my kitchen table
my bedroom
I chose my bedroom. I have a turn-of-the-century cherrywood table and a matching chair that breathes a history of its own. My desk is covered in papers, books and pictures. I meant to use this breathtakingly beautiful desk to write on, instead my bed, has turned out to be this place. I sleep in this bed, love in this bed, and create in this bed. I sometimes pen entries in countless journals, or use my little white notebook computer to write poems or stories, over my heap of blankets.
It is peaceful in this room of tall windows, and garden beyond them. Right now the crickets are lulling me to sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment