My Office

I have seen beautiful offices: heavy oak furniture, low hanging ceiling fans, tapestries on the walls, soft buttery leather chairs, overstuffed love seats…all the things I can’t afford and will probably never have.

What does my office look like? Mismatched furniture, a tired cloth office chair, a desk top computer with two monitors and directly behind it, a tall bookcase loaded with all types of reference books spanning the middle ages to modern day forensics.

The writing tools are there, but it’s not exactly where I compose my stories. My two daughters tend to take over my world and to this date, I was slowly and methodically pushed from my space.

The next step? A netbook in my bedroom. Newest office space. Has it worked? Somewhat. When the laptop is opened, the stories beckon but so does my Facebook, email or other sites, not to mention the flat screen TV glaring my way. When the muse approaches, it tends to appear at the time my daughter needs help with homework or my husband wants to watch a movie, but I do find time to write.

Update? My husband is well aware of my lamentations of personally owning my private writing space. On March 11th, he ordered the iPad 2. He states that my office will now travel everywhere I go and that writing will not be inhibited as much.

Thus, you ask with frustration, “What does your office look like?” Answer: it depends on the day and time. Sometimes, my “real office” is in the basement, others, my bedroom and in the future, wherever I have a chance to sit and tap away on my new iPad.

Your office can be anywhere you make it and that’s how mine is at this moment. Maybe in the far off future I will have those rich tapestries, thick, leather cushioned chairs and a luxuriant desk, but it doesn’t make a writer write.

The office is within the heart and soul of the composer.