If I’ve got a good idea I can write almost anywhere. I’ve written on napkins in a bathroom stall at work so as not to lose an idea, and my husband knows that any nonsensical texts or voicemails he gets are probably story ideas that I didn’t want to risk forgetting.
As a kid I used to write everywhere, and always had a notebook with me in school, from third grade on. I used to keep all my stories in three big hand me down Trapper Keepers that I bought at a garage sale in fourth or fifth grade. I still have all the stories, in a file box in the closet. I’d probably grab that during a fire before I’d think about clothes or car keys. I’ve also got them scanned into the computer and archived, so in case of a fire I’d still have them. But I’d hate to lose the actual paper. Sometimes I pull them out and reread them, remembering vividly where I was at when I wrote those stories; kitchen table, laying on my bed, sitting in our camper at a campground, study hall, and even one about mean girls (way before the Lindsay Lohan movie) that I wrote at a sleep over while the other girls made fun of me for not fitting in.
But when I seriously write, when I assemble my texts, napkins, receipts, and my red composition book that I carry almost everywhere (not in the shower….although I have screamed at my husband to write something down if inspiration hits), I’m in the big bedroom of our townhouse. We use the smaller bedroom to sleep in, and the big one is my ‘writing room’.
I play music, often 80s metal, which was popular when I was in kindergarten, but what can I say? I’m hooked. But sometimes country, classical, dance, pop, rap, or oldies like the Beatles or Elvis.
I have a fan, not just to move air, but for white noise. I usually have something to drink nearby: pepsi, hot tea, coffee, Gatorade, or water with ice and lemon. I keep my phone with me so I can time my writing, sometimes shutting out social media or the internet entirely and writing for 60 minutes straight according to the timer on the phone. (No one ever calls except my parents once a week or so. My mom seems to be able to sense when I’m in the middle of particularly hot sex scene, and picks that time to dial. A few weeks ago my heroine was on all fours with a vibrator in her mouth and I had to leave her hanging for 90 minutes so my mom could fill me in on what the neighbors are doing to irritate her. Talk about mood assassination!) My husband sends me several dirty text messages a day, often making suggestions or laying out his plans for what I can expect that evening. A girl at work got a dirty text from her boyfriend once, timid, tame, and PG-13 compared to the smut my husband comes up with, and remarked about how annoying it was that he would tell her how horny he was. Her and I are very different people. Very different.
I keep a scented candle in the room, just because I like them, and it’s not a visual distraction. I absolutely can’t write with a tv playing near me.
Ready for another TMI? I keep a towel to sit on, for those occasions where I’m writing something particularly naughty, or for when I’m reading something that really connects with me in a physical way.
I have a pencil holder on my desk that I made in fifth grade art class, when we fired clay in the kiln. It’s supposed to be Edgar Allen Poe, but my teacher assumed it was Tom Selleck and I was too shy to correct her. Not that there’s anything wrong Tom Selleck. He’s no Poe, but who is?
I have a cheap ottoman that I bought at work that I keep a throw blanket in, and use it to keep my feet propped up under the desk.
I also keep a flashlight on the desk. When I write late, and go to bed long after my husband, I use the light to get in bed so as not to wake him. Or for when I get up early, I use it to get outside for my morning walk without having to turn on any lights.
What’s in your writing room? What do you need to set the mood? Do you have any good luck charms (my Edgar Allen Poe pencil holder is NOT for sale)?
Love, Isabella 