Under the category of life changes, I will soon have a new office. I’m conflicted though. So many books and short stories have been written in my little pantry, with the washer and dryer going behind me, and temptations in the pantry to my right. How can I leave my space, my cocoon?
Fairly easily as it turns out, now that the opportunity has presented itself.
We had to do repairs to the ceiling in my son’s bedroom and also had the crusty old carpet removed (that was some nasty carpet too, and predated our ownership of the house possibly by decades. Should have been done long ago.) Son has shifted into his sister’s room. Daughter’s away at college, and it appears she will be staying there this summer as well. That being the case, we decided it was time. With the help of a storage unit, we’ve moved some of her belongings into storage, moved our son’s belongings into her room, and now have an empty space.
This will be our daughter’s bedroom when she returns home for visits or when, after graduation, she needs a place while finding her footing in the world. It is also to be our guest room, and my office. We will redo the hardwood floors, which were in great shape after so many decades under carpet, and repaint the walls and ceiling, and my desk will go by the front window.
What will happen when I make the transition? I’m such a creature of habit, and I know that ritual and space is so important for me to be able to write. But then again, I also know when I need to get over myself and embrace something new. I don’t think the new space is going to give me writer’s block (more and more, I don’t believe in writer’s block). I think it will revitalize my work. Sometimes we need to shake things up a bit.
Granted, Flaubert famously said: “Be regular and orderly in your life, so that you may be violent and original in your work.”
But even Flaubert got out of the pantry once in a while.
Here’s the new space. I’ll post another picture when the office is up and running.