Scalamoondis

Finding the place where one is going to do most of their writing is, exactly as obvious as it sounds, essential to any kind of writer. As a poor, time-crushed college student also working several jobs, most of my writing is done at my apartment; and with the financial context I just revealed, it shouldn’t come as any surprise that I have a roommate and therefore have my desk inside my bedroom. All fine and dandy sure, but the real news is: this past week we moved to a new house.

Other than handiwork and repairing things in the garage, I’ve never had an extra room not dedicated for a specific use or hobby yet. Whenever it came to my writing, the majority of it was created side-eyeing my bed at the end of a crammed day of everything you can imagine. And I am not attempting to complain whatsoever, I think I can confidently say any writer or student under the age of thirty can vividly picture the setting: it has been a taxing eight hours of classes and/or work, there hasn’t been anytime for an actual real meal, but now we sluggishly arrive home and throw ourselves into the living room. Up next we’ll probably socialize with our roommate, if not then we’ll swipe through some conversations on our phones, but after a few tens of minutes pass we’ll consent that it’s time to get something done… it’s time to write. Yeah, we’ll usually have some good motion on our way to the writing station, but as soon as we arrive we’ll start to notice some things. The bed is there, the jammies are there, and maybe the TV is there, but all that must take a back seat to the document in front of you. If your room is anything like mine, and I’d be incredibly surprised if it wasn’t, that task is easier said than done. I mean, the place where I do all my writing is literally filled with everything I like; all of which would easily distract me if it made it to any of my senses. But all that has changed this past week. I literally have a room with just my desk in it… for now.

Think about it: a room made just for you to create and develop your writing. As of writing this, there is nothing else occupying any of the remaining space in this writing sanctuary. Now I’m aware that this won’t be the generally accepted ideal for a writer, but to me, there is no other setting I could craft in my mind better suited for completing writing or any other intellectual task. As stated before, it’s an empty room, so the only sound you can experience with the door closed is the tacking and clacking of the keys as you type and the rebound of the space bar when things really get going. The echoes those sounds create literally give you reinforcing auditory feedback that you are getting the job done, progress is being made. Nothing is on the walls. In all four corners of the room, every time I glance up for a second to organize my thoughts there is nothing to take my attention away from the mental processes moving at a trillion RPMs. The floor is some kind of faux-hardwood, and recently with the new normal being sub twenty degree weather it stays cold; so, the emptiness of the room combined with the material of the floors is just the chef’s kiss to the creation. Again, I readily acknowledge that this is not the ideal at all for most writers, but I can’t be in perfect ambient temperature if I want to get something on paper.

Of all things ambient, a worth mentioning beauty of the new move is that there isn’t incoming noise from other humans leaking into the auditory space. Admittedly, I find it comforting hearing the soft noises of other people living out their lives, but as I’m sure numerous readers can attest, ‘soft’ isn’t usually the norm when it comes to apartment neighbors. So here I am now, with the perfectly crafted setting I’ve described thus far, describing the experience of getting things exactly the way I envisioned them. Nothing dramatic has exploded onto the paper, nothing revolutionary. The efficiency has improved, but only marginally. Everything is exactly in its place to promote working, but when everything encompasses nothing in the room, that really isn’t saying much. The work and writing is almost waiting for the distractions to signal the mind that its barriers should arise for the work to proceed. I’ve got to admit: I think it’s going to take a while to get used to having things the way you’ve envisioned you’ve always wanted them, or at least, how you thought you’ve always wanted them.