Stuff That’s in My Writing Space
(In which I own being a big old slob.)
When I sit down to write, I have a laptop set up on our rarely-used dining room table. There’s a nice view from the windows out here. If I put birdseed out on our deck, I’ll get an array of cardinals and blue jays and crows and sparrows and other birds, in addition to squirrels and chipmunks. It’s all very pleasant to watch when I need a break from staring at the screen.
My actual writing space, though? I won’t post a picture, because someone might faint. But I am a cluttered person, and my writing space reflects that. Stuff that’s on the table right now:
Some story printouts I’ve marked up and should probably recycle.
A pallid bust of Pallas (pictured above). Really. She’s got a big raven perched on her shoulder and everything. She’s awesome.
A huge jar of Eucerin creme for very dry skin, because I was basically a walking chunk of sandpaper during the cold dry winter months.
My cell phone. Just in case one of the cats does something funny and I need a quick picture to text to my husband.
A miniature drum kit I got from Dave & Buster’s on my last birthday. I thought it might be fun to play with when I needed a quick writing break, but I can’t do much with it because it falls to pieces and has to be reassembled if I so much as sneeze too hard.
A tin of lip balm (Lush’s Lip Service, if you’re wondering).
Pens, mostly purple.
A softball. As I’m writing this, the Weekly Knob prompt is “baseball,” and I grabbed what I thought was a baseball from a box of my husband’s old toys, hoping that holding it might spark a story idea. My husband informed me that I’d taken a softball. I freaking hate baseball anyway.
A tiny Xenomorph figure and a tiny Hellboy figure. I like to imagine that they come to life and fight when nobody’s around.
A box of Kleenex.
A Grim Reaper scythe from last year’s Halloween costume; I discovered that this thing is an awesome backscratcher, so I keep it nearby at all times.
A pile of to-be-read books.
So yeah. My writing space is a mess. Nobody’s going to exclaim in jealousy if I post a picture of it somewhere. But it works for me.