Writers, where do you write? Readers, where do you read? Where doe creativity and through make itself manifest for you? I often dream of a special place in my home. A room with dark wooded shelves burdened in books, stately books, old-stately books. In the room there’s a desk crafted from wood stained as dark as the shelves. Of course, on the wall, there’s an old mad calling back to times when the world was still a wonder, still undiscovered. And, of course, there’s a large, soft brown leather chair waiting for me to sit, to rest, to write, to read.
Sadly, I don’t have a room like that. Never have I crafted words in such a wonderful room nor have I explored the words of others in such a place. Even if I did have such a sanctuary, I would do little more than sit in it. I need noise, commotion, and blather to create. Ironically, silence does little to help me focus. Rather, it distracts me.
Strangely, for me, a favorite place to write is a karate dojo in Vernon, New Jersey. As my son practices his katas and sparring, I write. The dojo’s waiting area is my leather chair.
Where is yours?