I’ve been in the middle of a kitchen/living room remodel for eight months now. Yes, eight. I can’t fire my contractor, because it’s my husband and myself. Which means it’s weekend and evening work, and only when there isn’t some pressing issue that supersedes our need.
There have been times when it’s been a bit much—like the first three months with a completely empty kitchen space (except for the free-standing fridge), a microwave, and a bunch of paper plates and plastic utensils—and no restaurants open to eat out.
I’m past that now, with a fully functional kitchen, but no living room. But lest you think this is just a grump about my tragic life, the really hard part of all this is that my official writing space is currently the location of all the parts and pieces of my life that used to be somewhere else. I have a brand-new office chair still in the box because I don’t have room for the desk that belongs there. I have this beautiful, ginormous monitor, but no desk to put it on. And I have edits and more books to write, and… and…
But more important than that, I’ve managed to convince myself that it’s the lack of an office that is limiting my productivity. But we all know it’s not. I have a perfectly good laptop and two (count ‘em, two!) chairs in my almost living room. But I keep seeing posts from other writers who, during these strange and mournful days, are redecorating their office, or setting it up in the first place. They have pretty furniture, artwork, a lovely view out the window edged in eyelet lace, tchotchkes, and cats. Lots of cats.
I, on the other hand, have piles of paperwork, file cabinets full of old tax returns, cookbooks (some actually used a time or two—you can tell by the burn marks), a drum set (not mine), decorative pillows for a living room I don’t have, and other detritus. I have a picture in my head, though, of what will be, when it is to be. I’ll get back to you in a month or two (or three…) and let you know how it all worked out. We’ll see if I can come up with an “after” photo (perhaps even really of my space and not from a Martha Stewart photo shoot).
How about you? Where are you writing? Are you writing?
Don’t be a me – Write On!
For a while there I wasn’t sure you were human, Terri cuz you come across, to me, as being so together.
I procrastinate at procrastinating. But I’m very consistent! (At being inconsistent.)
If anyone needs an excuse for not meeting your writing goals, I’ll loan you 10 or 20 of mine.
Good luck with the living room!
I’m definitely real. And definitely not very together these days. Finding reasons for not writing is like someone telling me they lost weight. All I can say is “I found it” so I probably don’t need any extra, but thanks for the offer!
Having a writing room will be a true pleasure. I love my own.
Boy am I there too…at least about my study. Stuff unrelated to writing everywhere and really, the few other places in our house that they could go (these many misc items of a variety of usefulness, pertaining to others in the family and many other subjects), but those places have their own sets of misc items. My husband and i joke about what we’ll leave our boys to sort out, but my mother’s place was a nightmare to go through when she left her home and she had very little compared to us. Maybe it will drive us crazy enough to force us to tackle it, in the meantime I use my dining room table and mourn the time when I wrote all my first drafts long hand in welcoming restaurants over lunches. It is what I miss most during this pandemic.
I have a photo of when I first set up my office years ago, before life and kids got in the way. It isn’t what I want now, but it would sure be better than what I have now! This can’t last forever (right?) and when things finally get more normal, we’re going to see what our “new” normal will be.