Rooms of My Own

I'm writing about writing spaces at the Poisoned Pen blog today -- both those in home and those we create on the road -- so I thought I'd share some photos. I've become so fascinated with the concept that I created a Pinterest board celebrating these writerly spaces (soon to be joined by a board celebrating bookstore bathrooms -- but that's another blog post).

That's me on the left (painted toenails and coffee and all) in Scottsdale, Arizona. I've got a phone pressed to my ear (on a radio interview) and a computer in my lap while the desert sun warms the patio. A sandstorm came in later, but what the hey . . . the morning was stupendous.

I didn't even get out of bed for the photo on the right. Which is in Colorado Springs the morning after winter storm Virgil ripped through the area like a party-hopping frat boy. Gorgeous and total, the snowscape provided a lot of fuel for the creative furnace. I wish I could conjure a blizzard every weekend (unlikely in South Georgia, but a girl can dream).

But here's my favorite spot -- the window in my own tiny office, with my crystals and candles and gargoyles, and my front-yard view of the dogwoods. I watch the Wheel of the Year turn through this window, Nature in all her steady rhythms, from the tender green-gold of spring to the yellow-red flare of autumn. This view reminds me that writing itself is an organic act, sometimes beautiful, sometimes violent, sometimes both at the same time.