My parents in our living room. Those lovely bookshelves went from floor to ceiling. 🙂

Well, once again, I didn’t get my post up on time.  I’ve been spending a lot of time writing lately, although not on The Lokana Chronicles or Remnants.  I’m taking a writing class online, and in our second class, we received a prompt.  My homework was to work more on what I’d come up with for the prompt in class, and it’s been a challenge.

I got called into work yesterday afternoon and since I had to drive over there and drop the boys off anyway, I left in the morning like normal and spent three lovely hours at the library working on this new story.  It reminded me of when I was younger, and I would take over the living room to write, or spread things out in my room.

There wasn’t really much to take over in the living room, since my sister lived with my grandparents and my dad lived at his desk in the dining room, but it was the space I wanted.  Often a friend or two would join me and we would stay up till the wee hours of the morning writing and giving each other feedback.  And also dancing to Gaelic Storm.

I finished two or three novels in my teen years.  As I think about it, there might have been a couple more, but I would have to go and look.  They were all terrible.  Naturally, I didn’t think so at the time, but they were.  The first one I ever finished took me weeks to transcribe in my bedroom – I write in pencil, but I was very proud of this particular work and wanted to make sure it would still be legible in years to come, so I copied it in ink.  Because I couldn’t stand having my pages marred by scribbles or white-out, I copied some pages two or three times, just to be sure they were perfect.  If I’d had a computer, I’d have used it instead, but I didn’t get my hands on one of those till I left for college.

As a result of my writing habits in my youth, I still prefer to write in the living room, curled up in the recliner or propped up with pillows on the couch.  I adore my desk, but mostly for its lovely storage – I hate actually writing there.  It’s just not as comfy and I find that the words flow much better when I’m comfy, don’t you?

That bank of windows with the glass door is all mine. 🙂

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a space I could call my own, where I could do what I want, when I want, and that’s probably the thing I’m looking forward to most about moving (still trying to keep a positive attitude here).  Our front porch, with its lovely view, is going to become my office and the closer we get to moving, the more excited I’m getting.  I can have my desk on one side, with my file cabinet next to it, and a big comfy chair and a small table on the other side.  Best of all, there’s a door I can close. 🙂

The one down side, of course, is that there’s not room for my books.  They’ll have to reside in Seymour’s office on his yet-to-be-built lovely big bookshelves (the former owners had no books – and no bookshelves – in the house, which is something I just can’t fathom).  But across the house is still better than in boxes somewhere.

At any rate, it was quite nice yesterday having some time to myself to write.  I know someday I’ll have more time for it, but I’m impatient.  And very grateful for naptime. 😀

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