I see myself, sitting in an office, you know, one of those old school library type offices and it’s all mine. I don’t have to share it with anyone. It will have a comfortable chair and a cute lamp. Office supplies, the expensive cute kind that I would never buy now, but which will be an essential part of my desk litter. The walls will be lined with my extensive collection of books, and the door will have a lock on it. Although by the time this office is a real thing my kids will be old enough to know not to jump into my lap when I’m working. Soft music will play in the background, maybe a cat will swish around my legs. The carpet will be plush so that I can sink my toes into it. The walls not covered in bookshelves will be covered in expensive wallpaper and photos instead.
This imaginary space is the room I’ll create for myself when I’m ready for it. It’s out there waiting for me…
I’ve spent the past year or so reading books as research for the kind of stories I want to write. I’ve also made notes on a dozen different story ideas. I’m always thinking of story ideas, always making notes, getting ready for the day when my children no longer require 100% of my brain power 100% of the time.
Until then, I dream of my writing space, as I sit here at the dining room table with a 3yo literally hanging off one arm.
This is me, telling the Universe that I’ll be participating in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoPoMo) next year.
One year from now, I’ll be ready.
make it so.
Ask. Believe. Receive.