Writing Space

I write at a faux cherry stained wood desk from Office Max. Though a chair and lap would suffice. My fingers glide across a keyboard like a pianist’s on a piano.

I get a whiff of Fresh Linen Febreeze or Calming Lavender in my selective nostrils, but you may catch a hint of dog or the stubborn scent of the house’s previous owners that I’ve labeled as “old people”.

Somehow light gets through an eastern facing window, by dodging the smudges from unprofessionally cleaned window panes or refracting through tiny rips in the block shade that I routinely pull down to the floor until the force sends the vinyl back up, spinning around the reel. Never settling in at the desired height.

I may hear the dog pawing at the carpet in his dreamy sleep or the reverberating bass of a car stereo. Mostly, I hear the click click click of the keys. Trying not to mimic or observe as I usually do, but create something.

I feel a little chilly because I refuse to turn the heat up.

I focus on the computer screen. If I turned around, the inanimate objects would only remind me of the things I’d like to do. The hanging Pothos and Bonsai tree tell me their leaves need dusting and some water would taste good. The Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami rests on an electric green side table and begs for attention.

I lose track of my surroundings and pay more attention to my thoughts, which are even more Devilish than these Details.

This post was inspired by WordPress’ Weekly Writing Challenge. Give it a try: You have one paragraph to pull the reader into the space you’re sitting in right now. Go.

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4 thoughts on “Writing Space

  1. Ryan says:

    An overloaded bookbag, a pair of tennis shoes, a sweatshirt and change of clothes, and an old paperback novel. Arms full, I trample in from the bitter cold into the Washington Park library, looking for a place of refuge, maybe work, maybe leisure, until my six o’clock meditation class nearby; though by the looks of me and the random items I’m carrying, one might think I’m homeless and here to excape the icy wind chill. But it’s warm inside here, and actually quite nice, modern, not what I expected from an inner city library. A guy is already sitting at the first table I see, but I decide to unload all my stuff on his table. Next I wonder, “Was it ok to just slap down my old tennis shoes on a library table, where this guy is sitting? Maybe I should have put my shoes on the floor.” I ponder my next move…maybe the computer. I sit down to find the latest from Miss Early Bird. Somehow this has all worked out perfectly.

    • A notification that there was a comment on my blog, how exciting! When I see that it’s from Ryan, I get even more excited. Is he describing his bout as a homeless man? Nope. He has responded perfectly to the assignment, with some humor, a lesson in synchronicity and devilish details that make the scene come alive. Bravo.

  2. I get a very clear picture of your writing space. My favorite line is “The hanging Pothos and Bonsai tree tell me their leaves need dusting and some water would taste good”. Great job. I enjoyed your response to the challenge.

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