Every once in awhile, I come across a book about writing that gives me some new insight on how I write, why I don’t write, and sometimes both. I’ve been struggling with having a place of my own to write for months – ever since my middle child decided to move out of the room he’s shared with his younger brother for thirteen years and into the room I’d just started converting from the playroom to my office.
This is the son who is going off to college in the fall, but he’s also the middle child and never asks for much. But most important of all, Brian is my writer, so I totally understood his desire to finally have his own room – or, as he calls it, his lair.
Sure, I could write in Brian’s room while he’s at school, but it’s not the same. I want my own desk in my own space, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the household. I know that some people can write on the kitchen table, or wherever else they find themselves. These probably are the same people who can fall asleep anywhere – unfortunately, I’m not one of them.
I was trying to figure out how I could turn the dining room into a library/office for myself when a fellow writer loaned me the aforementioned book. It’s called “Thinking Write” by Kelly Stone, and among other things, the author stresses how having a designated writing space – and writing there regularly – trains the brain to switch into the writing mode.
Stone calls this a “sacred writing space” – and while the term may sound a bit New Age-ish, it makes sense. Having a permanent place to perch, whether it’s an entire room or a desk in a quiet corner, makes it easier – for me anyway – to ignore the sirens’ call of laundry that needs to be folded, a dishwasher that should be unloaded, and any number of myriad tasks and temptations that really, seriously do not need my attention RIGHT THIS MINUTE.
I know that it could take months – or longer – to turn the dining room into an office. So in the meantime, I still need a designated writing space where everything I need is close at hand – thus reducing the chance of having to get up and go into another room to round up a pen or a pad of paper.
In her book, Stone suggests that writers who cannot carve out any space to call their own place put all the items needed for current projects in a backpack or tote bag and find a place that is conducive to their craft — whether it’s sitting on the bed (not for me, as I’ll find any excuse to take a nap), on the back porch, or even at a local coffee shop.
I’ve taken Stone’s suggestion and assembled my own writing tote bag. I’ve found that this simple idea makes It possible for me to get right down to business. I don’t really think of it as my “sacred writing space” – I don’t want to be known as “the bag lady writer” – it’s more of a temporary solution until I can find the right place to permanently park my butt in the chair. But it underscores the importance of making room in my life for the words to come out and play – even if that room is just in my head.
Jeanie,
You listed a very workable — at least temporary — solution to your sacred writing place problem when you wrote “even if that room is just in my head.” Some writers can successfully manage this by visualizations alone. Others are helped by using physical aids like the man who, not wanting his daily work problems to invade his home life, went through the motions of hanging an imaginary bag containing his worries on a shrub before entering his home when he returned from work and picking it up the next morning on his way back to work. Another person opened an imaginary door, entered an imaginary office and closed the imaginary door behind her. (You might not want to practice these procedures in front of neighbors or family members.)
Others have used similar, physical aids that help them imagine themselves in a place conducive to concentration and literary creativity.
Some use aids to imagine themselves in a former place of successful writing. Aids have included simple things such as a familiar object from the previous location or even a familiar fragrance of freshly sharpened pencils or a freshly peeled orange to trigger and maintain their imaginary venue.
Good luck.
Bob
Not quite what the book tells you, Jeanie, but if I cannot use my computer (I have twin nieces that might be here for hours at a time), I pull out my notebook and start writing. I often write as a first draft and my–well, nothing in Chicago is sacred, trust me–workplace is some el train where I have background noise. So for me it is something I might be doing even if my nieces were not here. I try NOT to think of my computer room as my space. My notebook and wherever I might be is my space.
The noise of the el tracks is like Bob’s orange pencils with fragrances.
Regards,
Wayne
For me it’s as much what I put in the space as the space itself. The right level of light, the right music, the glass of water (or scotch, if it’s going to be one of /those/ sessions) in just the right place – all of these tell my lizard brain “this is the writing place. This is the writing time.”
Best of luck with finding the combination that works for you.
[...] am a spiritual chickie, so the title of another article on the subject drew me in. Do You Have a Sacred Writing Space? is found on Storytellers Unplugged and was written by Jeanie Franz Ransom. Inspired by a book, she [...]