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The Write Stuff

My favorite room in my house is the smallest. A scant 10 by 8 feet, it’s not much larger than a prison cell. Perhaps that is ironic, considering that is where I lock myself away to work. Or I should say, where I’m supposed to work, in my own self-inflicted jail.

View of the War Room

View of the War Room

I can’t remember why we chose the smallest room for the computer, but that’s how it worked out. Other electronic gizmos call this room home, including a printer, a digital camera, two e-readers, a tablet, and another laptop. I call it the nerve center of the house, a sort of control room.

It’s the only room on the second floor of the house that’s used, so it’s away from the normal household commotion. It was designed to be my little oasis away from it all, surrounded by my favorite things. Computers and books, what else do I need? They feed the mind while food and water sustain the body.

Got Books?

Got Books?

Behind the thin window treatments are room-darkening curtains. No bright light for me, I prefer it dark and cozy. I can’t see the weather through the material, but I can imagine there is a blizzard or a horrible thunderstorm raging outside, anything to emphasize the cozy feeling.

Let There Be (Limited) Light

Let There Be (Limited) Light

In the corner is the official chair where all my short stories and blogs come to life. Or where they’re supposed to be written.  The chair and ottoman are comfortable, and each offers an optional massage with heat. To the right is a bright lamp, and to the left is a table to place my beverage. With the lap desk balanced just right, I can read or write with ease.

The Official Reading and Writing Space

The Official Reading and Writing Space

I have always done my best work in near silence, and I tend to write longhand (always in pencil) before typing it into the computer. This is a habit I wish I could break, as it isn’t the best course of action for my chronic tendonitis. My hands and wrists would thank me for it.

It’s the perfect workspace for me, so what’s the problem? After working a day job and finally getting home to my family, I feel guilty spending time in my office/library/computer room away from my beloved and the fur kids. The door is closed to shut out distractions and four-legged intruders, but I can’t help but feel I should be on the first floor with them.

As it stands, I rarely work in my oasis. I find myself on the couch, at the dining room table, and when it gets warm, the patio. I usually have a white noise app running in my ears to help me concentrate. I wonder if I can squeeze in another bookshelf if I remove the chair from the corner of my little room.

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