Location, Location, Location
We are still mid-pandemic and the end is not quite in sight yet, so I do all my writing at home. But I find myself daydreaming of the places where I used to write and find inspiration, and I’m looking forward to toting my laptop and notes out to one of my favorite haunts.
Coffeeshops. I know: soooo predictable and boring for a writer to blab about the wonder of coffeeshops. But the fact is, in America, most businesses don’t let people hang around buying minimal product and taking up space the way coffeeshops do. I’m never cool enough or quick enough to snag the good chair either—you know, like the big armchair next to the small electric fireplace or the bistro table at the picture window. I always end up at a rickety table on a wooden chair with one short leg, in the coldest corner of the shop and nowhere near a window. Still, I do like the white noise of the coffee and cappuccino machines, and I like the chill music, and I like the people watching because most everyone else is committed to hanging around a while too so I can really check them out. The only thing is, I don’t like coffee. So I always end up with a hot chocolate or chai tea. And I often press earbuds in, even if I’m listening to nothing, to discourage extroverted strangers from interrupting my flow of work.
Hotel lobbies. When I want to class up my act, I take my writing to a hotel lobby. Almost all the chairs are super comfy—lots of armchairs and sofas—and there is plenty of room to spread out since there’s always an end table or coffee table handy. The lobby can be quiet or bustling, depending if I’m in a big city hotel, an airport hotel, or a chain hotel in the suburbs, but I like them all, really. The desk clerks usually don’t pay the slightest attention to someone sitting quietly and minding their own business, and again, I’m generally allowed to sit there as long as I like. And the people-watching here is ripe with lots of out-of-towners—though they usually just pass through on their way to their room or out to somewhere fun.
Libraries. I’m surrounded with research, electrical outlets, and silence. It’s almost perfect. (I say almost since I can’t bring in food and drink into a library to nosh on while I write, but that’s a habit I try not to get into anyway. Libraries are usually in the center of a town or city so I can scoot out for a break to get a meal.) In a library, I’m in a big building filled with the literary products of people who did exactly what I’m doing. Also, I love college libraries, because college libraries have so many little private rooms and nooks and corners.
Outside. I live in New England, so this only works a few months out of the year, but I love summer and sun, and I love working outside at my backyard table or on a blanket on the grass. The birds singing, the leaves rustling, the squirrels jumping around, and the warm sun all make me feel a part of the turning Earth and make me want to tell stories as my contribution. Last summer, I got the gift of a hawk landing in the side yard a few feet from me, and I just watched him until he took off, skimmed the top of my Jeep, and disappeared into the trees across the street. If I want a change of scenery, I hit a park, a zoo, or a conservation area and get plenty of work and sunshine in. There are a lot of camping areas with picnic tables in the shade. In the warmer months, you’ll find me working outside a full eight hours a day. And the great outdoors are quarantine-friendly.
While I’m waiting for our opportunity to once again frequent our favorite non-home places to write, I can always change it up in my own home. Sometimes I work at my desk in my office (an old desk that was in my childhood living room), and sometimes I work in the basement with the space heaters and strings of white lights, and sometimes I work on the living room to get some sun through the picture window. To be honest, once I’m in the flow of writing, I’m not where I am anymore anyway—I’m in another world, in others’ heads. So I try to remind myself it doesn’t matter—even if I’m not physically surrounded with inspiration, the story can be told.
