Where I Write

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The New York Times had an article about writers and their workspaces. I figure if it's good enough for the NYT, then it's good enough for me:

I moved to Boulder 2 years ago from Sydney. I have a desk set up in the spare room of our rented house in Mapleton Hill. You can see the corner of the bed in the bottom left of the picture but interestingly I never use it for napping although it would be the obvious thing to do. I’m just back from a trip to Australia to visit my family and the pile of magazines on the floor were bought at the airport for the flight back. Interior design magazines: a girl likes to dream. The desk has been borrowed from a colleague of my husband's. I have no idea if he wants it back, my thinking is probably not. There is a pullout shelf underneath where I sometimes store print outs of my draft.

I am writing a novel and the white board was Ronald's idea to help me jot down ideas. I like it. It gives me the powerful illusion that things are happening and I like writing in different colors. The blue text to the right is for everyday tasks that I should get onto. One is to contact a local high school to ask about their exchange program because my nephew would like to have a term here in Boulder. 

I’ve just finished my morning coffee. This may not come as much of a surprise but the coffee in this country is pretty shite. I use a stovetop espresso machine and a handheld milk frother to make coffee the way I like it. The box of tissues are for the crying jags I go on. I’m writing an essay about my mother’s brain tumor and it gets pretty messy sometimes. To the left of my laptop is a selection of nail polish. That is my chief form of procrastination for the time being. At the moment my nails are orange and silver. Who knows what color they’ll be at the end of the day. Next to the box of issues is the F*** BOX. My sister got one when she lived in Melbourne and I had to rush out and get one for myself. It’s a prized possession. There are 16 different recordings using the word ‘fuck’. My favorite at the moment is Fuck That Shit. It’s the second button down on the far left row. I’m wearing it out.

The novel? Oh lord. The images on the left of the whiteboard are pictures of individuals that help describe Vika, my main character. She’s a swimmer, she's not an extrovert, and she has hooded eyes. That much I do know.

I studied classical music and although I don’t have a piano in the house, I sometimes print out sheet music of pieces I’m listening to on Spotify. I fantasize about playing them with the same skill as Alexandre Tharaud. Fat chance. I tinkle away for my own pleasure on the piano at my parents' house when I go back there.

I write everyday but sometimes it’s only in my journal. I set a timer for 25 minutes which I’ve found incredibly freeing. It allows me to set aside the notion of time passing. The buzzer gets that responsibility. I’ll work in four or five 25 minute sessions back-to-back before taking a proper break. That’s the best I’ve got in terms of a routine. What I am disciplined about is the hike most afternoons in the hills of the Front Range behind the house. The writing, not so much. But, hey, at least I limit my access to the internet. 

If there's any kudos in that.