Writing is one of the most fundamental arts we have. Writing has been around almost as long as man has – the cave dwellers recorded important events with hieroglyphics on their walls; the Egyptians created story boards on the sides of buildings and wrote eulogies on the tombs of important people who had died; God Himself wrote the Ten Commandments on stone.
The art of writing transcends you and me, has lasted through time and space, written records have outlasted entire civilizations. With electronic communication and the focus present day media puts on images, you might be tempted to think the written word – the art of writing – is on its way out. Interesting thought, but you’d be wrong. Society needs writers now more than ever. Someone has to write the dialog between the villain and the heroine in your favorite blockbuster movie. Someone has to update the blurbs on your favorite website. Someone has to write the copy for the ads that fill the Million-dollar spots at Superbowl. Someone has to write the gossip articles about what your (least) favorite celebrity is doing right now.
Writing is our most basic communication and it should be simple. Sometimes, it’s not. In a pinch, you can scribble on the back of a receipt or on the white side of a gum wrapper. If you’re desperate enough, you could prick your finger and write a message with your own blood, like one character did in the Da Vinci code (if you haven’t read it yet, I won’t ruin it by saying who but you should definitely put that book on your reading list then)
I’ve written in the back of my notebooks in college, during a lecture that was just going over my head.
I’ve written in between the lines and on the blank space in the margin of an old newspaper page.
I’ve written on the backs of envelopes. In the blank space on receipts? Done that. In the middle of my palm. Yup, did that too.
I could write, and have written, in strange places.
- Poetry scribbled in my guidebook at the trailhead while waiting for the rest of the hiking group, because nothing inspires poetry like nature… and love.. and realizing you’re in love with nature.
- Musings about the meaning of life, in relative darkness, with only a tent light to see the page, in New Jersey while I was camping in the middle of a rainstorm.
- Standing on the side of the road when a poem hit me like the impact of a runaway train.
- In the chair waiting for the dentist to come back to finish a procedure – I remembered it was “Poem in your pocket” day and I wanted to have something in my pocket just in case.
- In the middle of a teaching session – a student did something that just made sense for one of my characters and while my literal student worked out the problem, I scribbled some notes.
- A small table, big enough to hold my computer, my bottle of water or cup of something delicious.
- A window with a view
- Background noise – both music and muted conversation work fine.
- A constant stream of people that I can watch intermittently if I need some inspiration for a character who is nothing like me, not people who are friends who will want to sit and chat, but people who offer something I don’t have.
- Wi-Fi for when I need to be distracted, for when i need a break, for when i need to do some quick research.
- A place for me to store my notebook for the little bursts of inspiration that I need to just put on paper because somehow, it works better that way sometimes.
- An outlet to keep my computer charged so I don’t have to limit my writing session. I love a good deadline but I also like knowing I have the luxury to write for hours if I am immersed in a good story.
I wasn’t planning it, but I just realized I just described Starbucks to a tee. Bonus points because you can purchase your bottles of water or “cup of something delicious” right there.
When it comes to writing spaces, it’s Starbucks for the win! And this isn’t even a sponsored post for everybody’s favorite coffee shop.
What is on the list of features that make your perfect writing space? Anyone who loves to sit in Starbucks as much as I do? Please tell me I’m not a weirdo…