Hi, Hey, Hello!
As the title suggests this is a post about ‘the space to write’.
Now I’ve decided to look at this as my dream creative space because I have spent a weirdly long time thinking about it. Mainly because I went and created a character that needed a place to write in (or that existed under the guise of being the place in which she wrote, because she works from the kitchen A LOT…it’s near the food). I touched on what it looked like in 34 but I have it in my head and so I’m gonna explore it further.
Windows. For some reason every room I create for a house in something I’m writing starts with the windows. I have a mild fascination with them. I need massive windows. Like hugely impractical floor to ceiling windows, preferably not facing the world because that could prove distracting (people watching is addictive…), but with some kind of view. A nice view. I fundamentally need a room with a view (which yes is a Virginia Woolf reference because reading that book made this dream workspace dreaming even bigger).
White/pale walls with pictures hanging up them (I am a sucker for a good quote in pretty typography…or I suppose I could have pictures of people I know up as well…). Wooden floors, maybe throw a rug in there, I don’t know. For some reason in my imagination what the walls and floors look like doesn’t come up.
I also want a massive bookcase. I want a wall lined with nothing but books (hey this is a dream work space, I can dedicate a wall to books). I love the idea of working in a room that is bursting with other people’s stories. A constant well of inspiration surrounding me for whenever things take a stagnant turn. I love the idea of spinning around (because I will always love a spinny chair) and seeing all the slightly cracked spines and faded writing looking back at me in an almost imposing way. Plus I need a place to put all the books I have, a wall sized bookcase is my dream receptacle for them right now, there is nothing logistically practical about it. At all.
Desks. Now desks are a bit of a problem for me, in that I can’t remember the last desk or table that I could fit under comfortably (and by that I mean with my legs crossed, because that is how I sit 85% of the time. the other 15% my legs are curled up underneath me). But I need a desk, preferably a dark mahogany or even better, black . I need a space to clutter with pens and stray scraps of paper. To stick post-it notes on and stack old notebooks on in a corner. To accumulate random coffee mug stains and empty packets of biscuits. Basically a place to create an organised kind of chaos. My favourite kind of chaos. (This is 100% an insight into what all my desks looked like at uni, didn’t take long to get to that either.)
And then I have my spinny chair. Comfy and adjustable and most importantly spinny (I am fully aware that ‘spinny’ isn’t technically a word).
And because I probably shouldn’t spend that much time on my own (in this scenario I am such a recluse, which tbh isn’t that big a stretch from my actual life, but still) then I can always check out one of the WeWork London shared office spaces. Because look at the windows…
Parentheses count: 10. See you tomorrow!
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