Writer Life: The Office
Sorry, this isn’t a post about Steve Carrell and his team. This post is a rumination about desks and what is expected when sitting behind one in the pose as a working writer. I like the sound of saying “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I will say this about having an office—I don’t actually have one but I do have a room that I attempt working in. It also functions as a guest bedroom and the movie den. It’s nickname is Mom Cave.
When I am in my office, i.e. the Mom Cave, my office is actually an Ikea chair and a footstool with a side table. Conventional is not my forte.
Once upon a time I did have a desk but didn’t have an office. This desk was built by my resident MacGyver and housed my enormous Tandy computer (remember Radio Shack?) and printer and two small filing cabinets, plus the TV. Some great stories were written there, but being in the central room, not a lot of quiet was had.
The next office was again not an office but a desk. It was set up in our bedroom. A bit more privacy; however, with three children in the household, privacy was at a premium. I did learn not to let my son and his friend play games on my computer unless I wanted the frustration of corrupted memory and glitches. It was time for my own computer. Enter laptops.
A laptop meant the filing cabinets could go. Same with the desk, which was actually a door on top of the cabinets (we’ve all done that type of economy desk, right?). I still needed a place to work so why not a small loveseat? Eggplant plush moved into my bedroom. Some really great stories were written there. Plus, I could sneak into my room and watch a movie on my laptop and say I was working.
Once the kids started to empty the nest I was able to claim a bedroom. A real office was on the horizon. Children do return now and then for visits so a bed is needed. Not a real office, although close enough.
Long winters and a stimulus check turned the pseudo office into a den aka the Mom Cave. Got my smart TV, sound bar booster, a sweet recliner loveseat. Oh yeah, my Ikea chair for when I do decide to write. Lots of great stories written there.
This past week, with the Artic Express chugging into town, I have relocated to the living room recliner as the Mom Cave is too cold for comfort. I’m finding I am getting a lot of work done out here. Surprisingly. When typing tedium takes over I look out the window and watch the birds forage and frolic at the feeder. I stay longer and work. I might be on to something.
Over time I have decided the office is a mindset, not so much a place. I still like saying I have an office though.
Nice to know there are Mom Caves since it seems that men often have a designated spot to do whatever we men do. (e.g., hibernate)🤣
The fewer potential distractions, the better when I’m writing. I don’t call my place an office either, though my wife has referred to it as my “hole” before.
The birds are a happy distraction. The TV, not so much. How is your novel coming along?
I’ve been making good progress. I’m glad I made this decision.
Interesting progression. I’m loving your Mom cave. My son will still be returning to his room for the next few years while in college, so I’ll have to stick to my “official” office in the corner of our bedroom, and my unofficial but most frequented office at the kitchen table looking out at the garden. I’m not tempted by the TV, having been an “anti” TV person for years. There are many other ways I can procrastinate, LOL.
My husband gravitates towards the kitchen table. Grumble.
It’s hard to get an office just right. Oh, Lordy, did I labor over mine.
No doubt you have worthy distractables when birds aren’t readily available. Like capy plush toys🤭
I took over our apartment dining area, filled it with books and my desk and now that is my office. My dream, though, is an actual office with a door. That to me, is everything.
Having a door is almost as important as having a desk.