We are working on an article about writers and their writing spaces and we need your input.
Where do you write? Do you have a dedicated home office with a desk and a chair? Is your “office” tucked in a corner of another room–or a closet? Do you write at your dining room table, on the sofa, or in bed? Do you prefer to write in public spaces–coffeeshop? library? outdoors?
Do you have a window with an inspiring view? Have you filled a blank wall with an inspiration board or photos? Is your space minimalist or filled with talismans? What do you love about your writing space? What would you change if you could?
Send a photo of your writing space along with a paragraph or two describing it and its influence on your writing to beaver[at]toasted-cheese.com with the subject line “AB – My Writing Space.”
If there is enough interest, this may become a series.
In movies, writers are only slightly less morally repugnant than serial killers (unless the writer is a serial killer). According to Hollywood, writers are either parasites (Deconstructing Harry, Barton Fink, Capote, Misery); perverts (The Squid and the Whale, Adaptation, Wonder Boys, American Splendor); addicts (Permanent Midnight, Barfly, Leaving Las Vegas, Sideways), or sociopaths (La Piscine, Deathtrap, The Shining). They have monstrous egos and tiny, wizened hearts. Their moral compasses are permanently cracked; their personal relationships are cynically contrived to produce “experience,” which they feed to the insatiable maw of their craft. They are creatively constipated. They practice poor personal hygiene. They are not lovely to look at. It almost goes without saying that they are almost always male.