|Not a recent picture. So tidy!|
On the bright side, at least my next post is already written.
But I’m not a quitter! I’ve got something else for you today. I’ve seen a lot of writers show pictures of their workspaces. I work a lot of different places. Let me show you!
We’ll start with my home office. I take my ceramic tumbler that looks like a Disneyland paper cup, my work cat Molly, and my laptop up the stairs.
Yes. I have a work cat. I have work pajamas, too. Okay, really, all my pajamas are work pajamas, but only Molly can come into my office when I’m working. She’s less likely to knock things over or park under the wheels of my chair or cry really loud because she wants attention. She’s my buddy. See? That’s her watching the cannibal house out the window.
|Much more recent. I need a maid.|
Sometimes, though, I need to get out of the house. When that happens, I have options. The people at Starbucks don’t care if I park myself and stay for eight hours straight. I make sure I get up and buy something every few hours, and I drop a tip in the jar so they know I appreciate them. I’ve also been known to stake out a spot in a Panera for awhile, but I don’t stay there for nearly as long. I don’t think I’ve lasted more than three or four hours at a Panera. Honestly, it’s harder to find an outlet there sometimes, so that makes a difference.
I don’t have a picture of Starbucks or Panera for you. You probably already know what they look like.
|I moved way over so you could see the view.|
I first heard about this silly thing when George Takei was making fun of it on Facebook. He’d written a hilarious review about driving while using the desk. Very funny, George. I bookmarked it and asked for it for my birthday. And it’s awesome. I finished my last book while using that thing. I’m a California girl residing in Kansas. I need water to look at. It makes me happy and productive.
I’ve written in hotel lobbies, a Perkins restaurant, cabins in the middle of nowhere, and once, the back office of a movie theater.
But the place I work most often when I’m not in my office is a grocery store. That’s right. Being a full-time writer is incredibly glamorous, isn’t it? It’s actually a perfect spot. The wifi—while not great—is free. There are a bazillion outlets. If I get hungry, there’s a salad bar, fresh sushi, a deli, and a cafeteria-style area that serves fried chicken and Chinese food. I can grab groceries before I leave.
|I don't know who those people are.|
And I’m here right now with my husband, who’s also a writer, but still has to go to his day job, so needs some writing time. See? There’s his elbow. And that’s the mini-Starbucks on the left through the doorway.
Once upon a time, I thought I could only write if I was at home, in absolute quiet, with nobody else in the house. That was a long time ago. I’m not so delicate anymore.
But I sure do like that steering wheel desk.
She believes in pixie dust, the power of love, good cheese, lucky socks and putting things off until the last minute. Her home is Disneyland, despite her current location in Kansas. Rachel has one husband, two grown kids and a crazy-catlady starter kit.
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