One's Company, Two's a Crowd: Finding Your Writing Space

I type for a living.  No, not writing...at least not yet.  That's the goal though.  I work all day typing in my home office transcribing for doctors who can't pronounce medicines, who make up new adjectival forms of medical sounding words, and can't tell the difference between a metatarsophalangeal joint and metacarpophalangeal one.  It doesn't exactly give me the ambition to stay in said office and keep typing away during my free time in the same surroundings that I just spent hours making a doctor appear smarter than he is.  When it's time to write, I normally head for anywhere but my office.  A chair in the corner of the room, outside under the sun in a lawn chair, or even in bed.    

Left:  A chair in the corner of the room kept guard by my dog, Poe.  Right:  The work space.

Recently the wife and I decided to buy a camper with the hopes of fixing it up (glamping, if you will).  As a bonus, I decided to use it for all my writing.  We went for a retro look and it screams the 70s.  A decade I think everyone seems to enjoy better than the current one.  An era most of us can really draw some great nostalgia from, those of us who were blessed enough to have lived through it.

New writing space

It feels good to be out here in the Regal Beagle (I told you..we went full 70s).  It's a very solitary place.  Though I love my children with every part of me, it's difficult to give life to an idea while they cast their virtual spells in World of Warcraft, bring down the enemy via gunfire on the X-Box, argue, scream, ask a plethora of questions, and even laugh, which normally is the sweetest music to this writer's ears.  Out here I've found my sanctuary, my haven...and hopefully my muse.  With a bathroom, heat, AC, fridge, electricity, Wi-Fi, a place to nap, and even a telephone, who needs anything else?  The irony of it all is that when my kids are out here with me that's when it's the most fun.  I digress.

Poe's space...I think he'd be jealous of mine.

Looking around this retro haven of mine, I wonder what Poe would have written had he been sitting here.  I mean, the guy wrote some seriously dark stuff, but when you look at his writing area can you blame him?  If stories are a product of your surroundings, will my future writings all include bra-less roommates, buggy eyed landlords, and hairy, womanizing friends with the dialogue overflowing with innuendo where the kisses are hers, and hers, and his?

I doubt it.  Facebook offers enough gloom and doom in itself to keep one's imagination going. 

Announcement:  You can read my tear jerking tragedy of a story "Self-Immolation" in the new Shadows & Light #4 out right now, available in both Kindle and print.  Get that baby right here.