Sitting long nights in front of a text, trying to convey a message. That feeling of preparing a large cup of tea, then returning for hours locking myself into a room. An idyllic atmosphere, just me and a couple of words. The ultimate working place, a place I love so much which makes me return, spend long hours and get up early, to write hours before even heading to the office. A sacred space.
Natural light awakens the space, energizes and stimulates creativity. It all about light, isn’t it? A desk right in front of the window, words fly past like birds, with a view of the outdoors for inspiration. Even in the dark, there is a certain kind of charm lingering upon the table lamp, a dark room, all eyes on the desk. Or its reflection in the window. And how many times have I walked past windows when a table lamp revealed itself a little story of what was going on inside. These table lamps are such phenomenal portals.
A desk and a comfortable chair. A quintessential is that it's made of wood, that’s it, no more details needed. I like that free space below the desk. You could say it’s a minimalistic version of the Scandic design. But regardless of the shape or size, I personally have found that a desk I loved would have a tremendous effect on taking my writing process more seriously. When I sit down, my brain knows that it should get to work as soon I am stationed there, and I am less tempted to procrastinate.
My books are all just a wavelength away, full of inspiration whenever the mind drifts and brings back fresh ideas for one’s own story. I want to bury myself in a den of books. I want to saturate myself with the elements of which they are made and breathe their atmosphere until I am of it. Or just grab a book and be inspired. Having favorite books within arm’s reach certainly, can’t hurt. Or just the ones which suit your current subject.
I carry around a notebook. In these quiet, silent moments. While out and about, I get the impetus to write and it often goes hand in hand with an impulse to note down the small things. But at my desk, I transcribe my notes. My notebook is for the outside world, my computer for the inside. I revise the notes and then type them down. There are so many drafts residing in my Mac, my dream PC ever since Sex And The City.
As the day comes to an end, I’m looking at the reflection of my table lamp once again. An angel hanging on it, a gift given to me years ago. In many ways, it echoes inspiration and encouragement. There is nothing like finishing up an article, then hitting the publish button. I see a car slowly rolling through the street. The lights of the pedestrian crossing are flashing. Tranquil and comfortable, a private laboratory to experiment with ideas and plan out new projects. A cozy nest, not just room. There is a real need for a writer's sacred space.
My Desk: FANOM from IKEA
For further reading: The Writers Desk by Jill Krementz.
Photographs via 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | & own.
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