Where is your writing place?


What would you do if tomorrow you lost that space?

Have you ever given a thought to where you do most of your writing? Do you stay in your room, tucked in bed or atop it and write with a pen on paper? Or do you have a study, with a desk set aside and type directly onto your laptop? Do you venture else where? Perhaps a park, a café, or a library, or that little corner in your garden where you prefer to sit and scribble away? Basically, do you have your writing space?

I used to have one, till it closed! Suffice to say I was distraught when they closed down. I’m still slightly raw that I lost my favourite seat in my favourite café where I have lost countless of hours scribbling away. It was a few years ago now. There was a Starbucks at the mall where I worked, and I would make an effort to leave home early enough so that I had at least an hour to sit in my favourite corner chair, away from everyone else, their mellow music floating out of the system, order my regular coffee and bring out my note-book. Other days, if I finished work early, I would sit in the café for literally hours, till the skies turned dark, writing. I can tell you I have penned two novel worth of writing in that space.

I don’t know what it was about that place, perhaps the fact that it was a secluded seat, and when ever I was there, I wouldn’t be bothered by any other customer chattering away none stop. Yet, one side was all glass, so I could still see the world around me. I was known there, as the ‘girl that sits in the corner and writes’ for quite some time till one barista curiously asked me what I do. I told him I was a writer.

You should have seen the comprehension dawn on his face as to why I spent hours in a week or day to write. After that, they never bothered me. If I was there, they would leave me be for hours if I wanted, occasionally coming back asking me how I was going, or if I had managed to get some writing done, or even ask me if I wanted another coffee.

It was my comfortable space to write, and I was never made to feel odd about my habits. Unfortunately, I’ve never been able to find another café similar in atmosphere to replace this one. I dare say, my search is still going.

For now, no one is suffering more than me, I have lost my space, I’ve lost my cocoon of isolation that still kept showing me glimpses of the world. Nowadays, most of my writing happens in my room. The feeling isn’t the same. I would like to be able to say ‘That’s my seat’ again (not that I ever had to say it to anyone but you get the sentiment).

Let’s face it, we writers are of the slightly obsessive compulsive breed. Because we have to pay attention to so much detail, we love it when simple things like using a set notebook/ pen or a laptop doesn’t take much of our brain power. When we get the urge to write, we would love nothing more than to simply slip into our comfort zones and sign out of this consciousness and into the writing mode. To say slight changes distress us would be an understatement. It’s our way of simplifying those task that don’t tax the brain.

Alas, right now, I am a writer slightly distraught. I need to find my ‘place’ again.