Monday, October 28, 2019

Why a Writer's Office Needs a Door


by Ane Mulligan @AneMulligan

I have a dream. It's of my optimal office space. I've achieved part of it, but there are some elements missing. Like the mountain lake outside my window. Hey, a girl can dream, right? I'd love a coffee bar behind my desk. I’m want someone to invent a desk that cleans itself. But most of all, I want a door I can close when I'm working. 

I spent the first few years of my writing career working in a corner of our master bedroom. Giant fir trees brushed the second story window, so I could fool myself that I was in the mountains. Even though chaos surrounded me in files and tube, I closed the door and pumped out six or seven books there. 

With the arrival of the first book contract, my office moved to the unused front "parlor." Lest you think I live in a great old Victorian, it is a tiny living room off the foyer. We have a great room, so that became my office. My husband bought me a beautiful, old Queen Anne desk. We finally changed the flooring in the house to all high-end vinyl plank flooring, which I love. Now my chair rolls across it instead of catching in the carpet. 

But there is no door. That means the entire household and the household chores can call my name at any time throughout the day. Insert snarky smile. They gang up on me. The washer swishes, "Ane, the towels are almost done. Time for anther load." The vacuum sucks the air from the room, groaning it needs dust. And then there's my husband. He forgets I'm writing. For some reason screeching, "Don't bother me—I'm in my story world," isn't an option with husbands. Not unless you want your shoe allowance cut off. I've tried saying, "I'm not here. I'm in Chapel Springs." Didn't work. He could hear that I was in the next room.

I’m one who needs silence when I write. I rarely even play music. Hmm, maybe I do need to spend time developing a play list. That might drown out the washing machine and the vacuum. But my biggest need is a door. I'd even give up the mountain lake view for a door. Not too sure about the coffee bar, although I can claim I exercise every day. After all, the Keurig is in the kitchen, which is across the house from my office. 

What does your optimal writing space look like? Have you achieved it? Do you have any suggestions for me?

TWEETABLE

Ane Mulligan has been a voracious reader ever since her mom instilled within her a love of reading at age three, escaping into worlds otherwise unknown. But when Ane saw Mary Martin in PETER PAN, she was struck with a fever from which she never recovered—stage fever. She submerged herself in drama through high school and college. Years later, her two loves collided, and a bestselling, award-winning novelist emerged. She resides in Sugar Hill, GA, with her artist husband and a rascally Rottweiler. Find Ane on her website, Amazon Author page, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest and The Write Conversation.

16 comments:

  1. Good morning, Ann and Edie! Yes, a door would be lovely. In my prayer chair in our living room is where I write. And like your husband, Ann, mind forgets I am writing even when he looks at me typing away! Thank you for this post. May God bless the work of both of your hands today. In Christ, Julie

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    1. Thank you, Julie. I'll pray for us to develop invisibility. lol

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  2. I now have a spare bedroom turned into a study, complete with a door and do not disturb sign. Everyone can read it except my husband. He has "selective" reading skills. 😂

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    1. LOL! I have a sign with a warning about murder on it, but from your comment, I'm not sure it would work, even if I had a door.

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  3. I have a door Ms Ane; and trust me, it doesn't always help. I can have the door on, headset on (listening to what I just wrote being spoke back to me, as I can't listen and write either). It doesn't stop folks from walking through the door with their request. It doesn't help that I networked the printer. Maybe I should move it to another room? :-) God's blessings ma'am; and praying your hand feels better from the "Stage Construction Accident of 2019."

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    1. Thank you, J.D. My hand is getting better, still bruised but not feeling too bad at all. And what is it with our families? I guess they don't understand how hard it can be to get back into the story world once pulled out. Sigh. But what can you do? We love them.

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  4. My current writing room looks very similar to the first photo in your post. My desk is tucked (crammed) into a corner of a tiny room that doubles as a storage “closet”. However, I do have the much coveted door... and for this precious commodity, I wouldn’t trade the world.

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    1. Sometimes, the smallest, "PRIVATE" office is the best. And I'll bet you know what is in every cattywampus pile. :)

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  5. My writing space resembles that in the first photo--only it's far more cramped. I dream of a real writer's office with both a view and a door as part of the package. A closet would be an added bonus. While I'm at it, I might as well imagine a lovely corner fireplace and a series of bookshelves laden with inspiration. My family would never see me again! :)

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  6. This is exactly my problem, too. We have a little alcove off the dining area where the computer desk fits exactly. The doorway is an open arch, so I don't think we could even find a ready-made door to fit it. I've halfway considered getting a hat like Jo March in Little Women, or some signal that "I'm deep into it, please don't disturb unless it's an emergency!"

    "This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally to ask, with interest, Does genius burn, Jo? They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly."

    Or maybe a sign that says "Genius burns" would do the trick.

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  7. I have one of the same problems you do--I have to be alone in the house to write. Which most of the time isn't a problem since I live alone. But when company comes and I have a deadline my guest says, go ahead. I won't bother you...then thirty minutes later you hear footsteps easing to you door to see if you're working...

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