One thing I’ve discovered in my writing journey is the importance of my workspace, or as I like to call it, my sacred space. This is the spot where the magic happens, where I sip my coffee and let the words (hopefully) flow.
Having your own writing and/or work space is really important to a lot of people, myself included. Perhaps it’s the routine of sitting down with my tea or coffee, opening up my laptop, the mechanical tapping of the keyboard, but there’s something about my work space that really gets me in the right mind set. It helps me to focus.
My ideal space would be a writer’s den. A large rug over wooden floors, books lining every wall, plush armchairs in front of a crackling fire, a giant desk where I can sprawl my work across, my antique typewriter in a glass display case … yes please. That will be my space one day, for now my space is much simper.
My space on the second floor of my house. My space is a simple. I sit atop an old blue chair at a plain ikea desk. A cup of cinnamon hot chocolate is beside me in my favourite Winnie the Pooh mug. My printed manuscript (first draft) lies open beside me, as well as my red diary which holds my To Do list … which I cannot function without. In front of me is my giant window, revealing the gorgeous suburb in the Adelaide Hills where I live. Behind me is my most cherished friend, my eclectus parrot Oscar. He keeps me company when I write, and I often read my work aloud to him. I find his soft talking to be very soothing and ohhhh so cuuuuuute!
My space is very simple, but it is mine. It isn’t the den I dream of, but I love it all the same.