“After the success of my first book, I got caught up with ambition and worked to produce. Writing shouldn’t really be like that.”
It’s my childhood desk, which I began using again after my father passed away and we moved in with my mother.
Even though I sometimes have a hard time waking up, my favorite part of the day is still early morning.
It’s the kind of desk I thought I’d have when I figured everything out. It’s a desk I’ve been waiting to earn.
I find that stories tend to unlock themselves when looked at indirectly, so I’m always searching for ways to engage my conscious mind and take pressure off the page.
Yes, that is a wine fridge under my desk.
Before, this room was full of books, a reading chair, plants. Now we’ve got a crib, a changing table, a glider. I’ve kept my desk, though.
The three Polaroids that hang by my desk are from different parts of the story, but it helps to have them nearby.
My desk has to hold all the different versions of me, the good days and the bad. So far, it has.
By necessity, my workspace must be extremely versatile (much more versatile than my boudoir life I might add)
One day we will clean it all up and fix ourselves.
What kind of story would you like to write?
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