I don’t have a writing room of my own yet, but I have been dreaming of it for years. In fact, I have planned that room the way most girls plan their weddings in advance. It’s going to look something like this:
Okay, maybe not exactly like that. You know, probably smaller. With a desk. Maybe a couch. Lots of shelving. A nice carpet…
Anyway, unlike Virginia, I have very little money–but I do have my own room.
|This is said corner.|
I used to write sitting at my desk, laptop upon it, but the desk chair was uncomfortable and my parents could hear me typing at strange hours of the night on the other side of the wall. It was while I was writing The Keegan Inheritance that I started sitting in the recliner, though I don’t have room now to use the reclining part. But that’s fine. I almost never handwrite my stuff anymore, though I keep a notebook on one of the bookshelves in case I need to work something out away from the computer.
I have piles of books surrounding my corner. Here’s a closer look:
These are three distinct piles that I have going on right now, all within easy reach of my chair.
|1st draft of Last Request|
And last, but not least, are my upper shelves, full of books–mostly of the mass market, romance-novel variety.
As you can see, it’s more like controlled chaos in here. I’m remarkably good at cleaning at work and I tended to be the neater one in college dorms, but in my own room? Not so much. The books are in piles because I’ve long run out of shelf space. I use some of them (the ones with Henry VIII on them) as reference and then there are the fun books. My room isn’t very big–but it’s big for an apartment dweller’s second bedroom–and I find it quite cozy in my corner.