Ever since man changed from traditional storytelling, and began to record stories via written words to create a more permanent record of their stories, there has been a quest to solve the dilemma for the best place to write, a Writer’s Den.
Do you have a specific place to write your story? This is a questions often pondered by novices to the craft of writing. It was a question I also had asked myself, especially as I had moved from one space to another in consideration for the needs of other family members. Of course, there’s no best place that would suit everyone. Over the years I have persevered in places that I’ve aptly named, my writing spaces.
Many years ago, a kitchen table in front of a warm, open fireplace in the gatekeeper’s cottage of an English manor house served me well. More recently, the saloon table in the bridge-deck cabin of an ocean sailing catamaran provided a somewhat rolling platform of endurance, as we traveled the South Pacific Ocean. After moving from our place on the ocean to the confines of our RV in which we traversed the western states of America, a mobile tray table sufficed. Finally, but hopefully not lastly, my ‘desk’ arrived, courtesy of my husband’s well-honed carpentry skills, as a conversion from an old, but beautiful timber television cabinet on casters.
My husband built a slide out shelf, rather like the keyboard drawer in a computer desk. He installed it on smooth, gliding runners under the worktop of the cabinet to house my laptop. On the desktop I have a bendy neck lamp with a slotted circular base that holds various writing tools. Above the desk there are three shelves currently littered with writing magazines, paperback novels, folders, newspaper cuttings, and other writing related items. From a recent birthday I acquired the addition of a comfortable office armchair for those times when my typing position needs a rest. I no longer have to work five or six hours sitting in a solid kitchen chair, or cope with the constant rolling of my computer tray trolley on our yacht.
Still, none of the above can match the place of my dream where I will eventually hang a sign designating the space behind its front door as my ‘Writer’s Den’.
That place is a small, one room cottage in a forest garden with a protected walkway attaching it like a short, umbilical cord to the mother dwelling. Apart from my desk, I’d have a microwave, a small refrigerator, a recliner chair, a restroom, and a large window through which I could glimpse the outdoors.
Will I ever have it? Not in the foreseeable future. However, I don’t believe in giving up too readily on dreams. Those dreams flash into my mind periodically, urging me to aim high.