I used to go to a favorite restaurant with big windows looking out on nature to write. I could use the sounds of the restaurant as ambient noise and slip into the creative part of my brain. Plus my coffee cup magically refilled.
But then I left the state I lived in due to life and had to find new ways. I could no longer drive a short distance to sit and write so it became more costly. I found a restaurant but it wasn't the best view. It was still ok but the coffee wasn't very good and it was more noisy than the restaurants I had previously used. I thought if I had a nice desk I could write at home. I couldn't afford much so it took awhile. I finally found one. I purchased a solid wood desk for $50 from a second hand store and it was beautiful. It was cherry, had drawers, and a large top. I set it up facing a window where I could look out and gaze at the birds and trees. It was wonderful. I felt like a real writer.
I had just started writing again when I had another unexpected move. The desk came with but was put in storage because there was no place to put it. And there were no close restaurants, the nearest with windows to look out was an hour away. And I didn't have money for trips like that. My writing dwindled.
The next move was the end of the desk I had kept with the hope of a place to set it up. Several moves after that I am now in a stable home. But the office issue is still an issue, I am still 1/2 an hr away from the nearest restaurant with large windows, and that restaurant has a view of a parking lot so it sucks as a visual for a writer. I have tried to set up an office in the spare bedroom but I live with my brother and his wife and they have fought me tooth and nail on setting up an office in it. I don't know why. They just have. I was going to use a folding table and just put a tablecloth over it. But it hasn't been manageable yet and I have become tired of the battle. I stopped writing and started playing video games.
But I missed creating. I made another effort to start writing, paying the money for the trip to the restaurant with the parking lot view. But then the pandemic hit. And there went that writing intention. I haven't written anything appreciable for years. But, I want my writing back. I want to create. I need to move forward with my writing and at a minimum finish the series I've started before I die. With the way the world is now it is all that more urgent. So I decided to write a poem. I managed to write the poem this week sitting in my recliner in the anything but quiet living room. When I managed it I nearly cried because I wasn't sure I still had the creativity to write. I thought I couldn't create anymore. And now I know I can. So I'm going to. Regardless of circumstance or place I am going to create. I am going to write because I am a writer. I've promised myself I'm going to find a way. Because writing is life for me.
The reason I have told you my experiences is because you don't need a desk to be a writer. You don't need a large window overlooking nature. You don't need a particular pen or a type of paper or a full cup of coffee or any specific thing to create. You need the commitment to write. Don't look to a specific desk. It may not be there tomorrow. Don't look to a specific place. You may lose it. Don't tie your writing to something outside of you. Know it is inside of you and you will have it always to rely upon.
I would say "good luck" but we make our own luck. So instead I'll say, "Good creating."
p.s. Find a comfortable chair. It is much more important than the type of desk.
