Some people have studies. Others dens. Or offices. I have a Scriptorium.
In our previous home, H. worked in the spare room, and I at the dining table in the living room. After a while, however, I found it hard to do any of my own writing in a space that was, ultimately, communal, especially outside working hours. So, after the usual period of grumpiness and seething dissatisfaction, I came up with a solution. I bought myself a small, folding, wooden exam desk – complete with pen-carrying groove – and a small, folding chair. I placed them in a corner of our bedroom, between the window and the chest of drawers. There was enough space for a few white fairy lights to give this corner an air of celebration, a candle for inspiration, and, of course, enough room to write. Because, at the time, I was translating an Italian novel…
View original post 736 more words
