A time and space for you... to paraphrase an old show tune from West Side Story. A time and space for you to write. Or draw. Or meditate. Whatever passion you follow. People who know me have seen my office:
(Keep in mind this is post-annual writers conference and middle of 3 projects mess.) Unfortunately when the kids are home or someone rings the doorbell or I want a cup of tea, it's 3 flights of stairs down. Good exercise, but by the time I get down the stairs and then back up, my muse gets lost on the way.
Sometimes though, I have to get out of there, or I'm simply not in the mood to sit at a desk, so I chill here:
But that darn TV is a temptation/distraction. (And that's my cat, lounging on the couch, trying to hide her face. She insists on laying on my lap while I try to type on my laptop.)
This past weekend it was a lovely day and I chose one of my favorite spots to work in- my meditation garden.
It was cool under the trees, and I had a comfy chair. Various flowers were blooming and I'd weeded it recently so there was no guilt. Plus, it was far enough away my family didn't notice me or were too lazy to come all the way in the backyard to get me to ask stupid questions like, "Where are my sneakers?"
Paradise. Perfection.
Persistent gnats.
Chewing the hell out of me.
I left.
Not being one to plaster myself with chemicals, I chose a different spot. Another of my faves is here, looking out over the pool. It's close enough to bathroom and refrigerator.
And the kids.
And the husband asking me what's for lunch at 10:30 a.m. (One of the hazards of living with a crazy person who likes to get up at 5 a.m. even on holiday weekends. I hadn't even had breakfast yet.)
And the neighbor's weedwhacking.
And the stereo from the other neighbors (either Frank Sinatra over and over and over, et al, or the kid's techno shout-your-tonsils-out horrors. And the speakers are pointed towards us because they think the whole freaking world wants to listen.)
Sigh.
There is no all-the-time perfect place. Conditions change. Your moods change. Your needs change.
So scout out a few places where you can work. Maybe the coffee shop? (too noisy for me). How about the library? (Can't bring my tea in with me.) Then there's the park (unless it rains or is too hot or is taken over by the loudest 9-year-olds you've ever heard).
Just remember that there is always a place for you. Figure out what you require for that span of writing time and get it.
Everyone deserves a space of their own.
Keep writing and keep happy.
Char