Being in the right place helps me to write. I spend Wednesday through Friday at a bare-bones hotel in a ski area, Sierra Summit, outside Fresno, California. If I sat at the hotel desk, I looked into a white wall. I felt hemmed in, constricted and narrow.
So I went downstairs to their restaurant which remained empty between 9 AM and 5 PM on weekdays. There I could see the white sparkling snow stretching out in a large field before reaching the steep slope of the mountains. There I could sit and write or read my draft and reflect on what should come or go.
Unfortunately, my working desk at home is not a "right" place either--clutter lies around me and I view sanded, stained walnut, not gnarled oaks or shimmering snow. But I can still produce good work there.
I enjoy much more sitting in my green, leather easy chair in our living room and typing on my lap top, especially since we got some of Sheri's paintings on the wall. (It took us two months after taking down the Christmas decorations before we did that!)
There in my chair I can look out our big, front window and see branches of our Bougainvillea vine trailing down, and out across out busy front yard and across the street to my neighbors yard. A long view, that's what I need. For companionship, the squirrel hiding his nut in the planter or the sparrows hopping around on bare ground or bringing a bit of yarn or such to their nest-building in the porch rafters.
Another good part about hanging out at that hotel restaurant was having people around me working. I can easily work 2-3 hours without a single conversation and not miss the human companionship, if I can hear people around me talking. And I did hear the lady at the desk complaining about the help or explaining on the phone what an economy room was. That was great! When I wanted more tea, a worker there cheerfully obliged me with hot water. That's why libraries don't appeal to me -- too quiet.
Yes. it was the right place. I skied one hour, and spent ten hours on my novel while there.
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