Right now, I would love to be transported to my perfect writing location. It’s a clean yet cozy room, with a large window overlooking a beautiful scene. Something not tranquil but busy, so I can keep focused on what I’m working on, amused at the hustle and bustle outdoors. The room is cool but not too cool, at that temperature where you need to wear a fuzzy sweater and snuggle into your seat to be warm. There are other people here, working on their own writing or art. They provide me something to stare at or pay attention to when my head is too empty or too full to put words to paper. I talk to them occasionally, making small talk about the lack of decent coffee or the slightly too-cold temperature. I sit on one of those fancy chairs that’s both super comfortable and supportive of your back. It’s on wheels, rolling back and forth slightly as I fidget, the back rocking slightly at the same time. I have my laptop – a much faster and lighter one than the one I actually have – but also a yellow legal pad, whiteboard for outlining, and bunch of pens, colored pencils, and markers if I’m in the mood to draw. My water bottle is full of cold, filtered water but I also have a chilled Diet Coke, hot Cuban or Turkish-style coffee, and endless supply of gummy candies and salty snacks. (The laws of thermodynamics don’t work here, so everything stays at its ideal temperature always.) The table in front of me is large in width and depth, allowing me to fully spread out my things as I need to. There’s a small wastepaper basket a few feet away, at just the distance I could barely make baskets into when I reject a paper-recorded idea or feel like playing some basketball. There’s sound in the background that I either work actively to ignore or try to cover-up with my iPod, full of all of my favorite music that I’ve ever heard and set up so I have no wires hanging between my earbuds and the device itself so I don’t accidentally pull out the buds when I shift in my seat. I’m wearing fuzzy socks which isn’t a trip hazard because the floor is a soft, plush carpet.
Where’s your favorite place to write? Are you alone or surround by people? Do you listen to music or spoken word or just the sound of your typing?
(Above was a new response to the Room with a View topic which corresponds to Day 2 of Writing 101. I decided to go in a different direction than last time. This is one of those prompts that’s so general I can see myself coming back to it again and again.)