Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear me-eeee, happy birthday to me! To honor this small occasion, I chose a writing prompt that suited me just right and set me up for a little daydream. Birthdays always make me think forward instead of backward. It seems like people ask what’s next instead of what was on these days. So, dream ahead with me today.
Prompt: Your dream writing space
My ideal writing space is actually two spaces. For as long as I remember, I’ve had a love affair with books. I collect them, buy them, read them, and store them. Why I keep books, even after being read, I am not entirely sure. I have only gone back a handful of times to read one twice, but there is something comforting about staring at the same bindings and knowing that at any moment I could ruffle the pages inside and awaken the those characters. Why books in a writing space? It makes sense that a writer have access to the masters themselves. Writer’s block? Have a meeting with Whitman or Agatha Christie. So, one space must be dedicated to books. This will be the library, and it will be constructed of wood, heavy and dark. Wide planks for the floor and bookshelves that reach the ceiling. The window in the room is old, its glass close to opaque. It’s indicative of one from an old college dormitory. Its purpose is not to see through. It’s simply there to tell whether or not the moon has risen or if the rain has stopped. What matters in the library is only what matters in the pages of a book. This space should have two chairs, maybe leather, and ample access to quilts and throws. A fireplace, definitely. There are no screens here, but a stereo is good. Music is a landscape for words, for life really. Time is suspended here, as is anxiety or guilt for having spent your hours unwisely. Minutes here are rich and healing.
So what now about a space to write? In many ways, this shares an opposite energy than the library. This room has many windows and is bright. I see a farmhouse desk placed next to a window that overlooks life, a second story not a ground floor room. Ideally, it looks out over trees and maybe a small pond where children dip their toes. Ordinary things happen here, and I write about those. Small lamps litter the space. In a writing room there is also a plush sitting chair for thinking when the pen isn’t moving. There is paper to choose from, paper with different weight and colors. First writing comes from the hand. Transferring it to a computer seems so formal and exposed. I’ll keep the first writes on the table until they want an invitation from the outside world. There are two more things in this space that I think I will want. A stitched rug beneath my feet beneath my feet is good. I hate cold toes. Next, there are pictures on the wall of people … kids, family, mothers, fathers, siblings, dogs. The faces I know. Not sure what to write about? How about the way the sun danced on your child’s face while he studied his reflection in the puddle. Or, the sound of an old dog’s breath as she sleeps atop your feet. Write what you know, I’ve been told.
Have a happy day! Enjoy your daydreams and your right now. Life is good.
