A Desk Of One’s Own

I will admit, I am quite the procrastinator. I drink lots of tea first and then there is the “tidying” of the desk. It’s my preparation time, my warm-up.

The space of a writer has always been something that has interested me since childhood. My parents bought me a desk and I was forever shifting things around. I had a little desk tidy, notebooks and dictionary on hand; this went beyond homework, it was a place of creativity and the birth of myself as a writer.

Fast forward to my early twenties when I first discovered Anaïs Nin. Her words enveloped me, her work made me want to pick up writing again. I had never stopped writing but I been studying for a degree and had only managed to fit in a few stories here and there (oh and a screenplay). As soon as I began reading Anaïs, I was lost in her world and decided that I was going to dedicate myself to the written word. She had inspired me and I had found a new lover; the written word.

A snapshot of my desk 

Through a haze of cigarette smoke, red wine, and strong tea, I began incessantly filling up notebooks and typing up short stories but they would never see the light of day because they were for me, this was my art and my therapy. Throughout the years I would set up a writing space in every place I lived, from black velvet flung over boxes to the kitchen table; I always needed that sacred space. Even to this day, I believe that every artist should have their own space; to create, to think and to breathe.

Please feel free to share your working space with me, I would love to see it and I may just feature it on the blog so get in touch.

Featured image: Anaïs Nin’s writing desk at her Los Angeles home (Karin Finell)



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