Saturday, 23 August 2008

A Room of One's Own

I don’t have a writing room but I do have my own writing desk. I never used too but then I went to university and found the joys of having a desk. I had dedicated space where I could leave sticky notes, pens and notebooks sprawled across the surface and not worry about tidying up again. When I came back last year to stay with my parents to do masters degree, I had nothing, just my lap to balance my notebook or the dining table. Then I came across this beautiful table in a charity shop and I knew it had to go in my bedroom. It became step one in the road to taking my writing seriously.
Sitting in the corner of my bedroom, during the winter it has the corner near my shelves and the summer it goes near the window for the sun light and for people watching. Just having this round desk and given me the space to leave my laptop resting and my notebook open, so I can rush from any place in the house and jot down a jumbled sentence, not yet edited.
On the perfectly circular pine table, is my brown faux-suede notebook for my novel (I’m using the first two chapters as my writing project for my Masters), my George Orwell Pen pot (used to be a mug but on the other side is a huge chip from an incident that involved it taking a suicidal jump from the cupboard) and any magazines (writing, and ones from inspiration – okay the STYLE one was just for the free bag) and books.

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