Last month, Kimberly Brock talked about being a traveling writer, an itinerant creative who writes wherever she can find a quiet spot. That would be true of me as well. With six kids and a husband who works from home, the idea of an office is a luxury. I do have a closet, though, if that counts. I’ll never forget when my husband told me he was giving me that closet to do with as I pleased right after we moved in. I don’t think he’s ever given me a nicer gift. I do love that closet.
Recently I did a Q&A at a library and one of the participants asked me where I write. Without batting an eye, I said, “On my bed.” They all laughed like I’d told a joke. But I was serious. I sit on my bed with pillows propping me up and my laptop perched on my lap and type away. It might not be glamorous. I may not have some gorgeous, inspiring view. I may not have framed book covers and news clippings surrounding me and encouraging me to press on. But I have my computer and– by hook or by crook– I’ve found a place to write.
For this post, I shared a photo of my favorite corner at Panera, a local eatery where I can go write when life gets too noisy and crazy at the Whalens. I’ve also used the library, the cafe in Barnes and Noble, and the front seat of my car. The desperate can not be too proud. The point, I’ve found, is not the where. It’s the what. What am I writing? What’s my word count goal for that day? What is my character struggling with?
When I focus on the what, the where doesn’t matter at all. I can write through a child jumping on and off my bed, constant interruptions, and a ringing phone. I can write through loud conversations at nearby tables, the acrid scent of burned bagels, and the endless beeping of cash registers. With a good set of headphones and Pandora, I’m good to go. In all my wandering, I have found a place to write. It might not be perfect, but somehow, it works.