Where do I do my best writing? At the kitchen table.
When writer’s block hit me about three years ago (the same time as the depression) I tried to write, but it didn’t “take.” Everything I wrote sucked. I didn’t know how to save on the computer thumb-thingy and it wasn’t unusual to lose everything I’d written. Technology hates me and I think it can go die a painful death.
So I stopped writing. Until I started taking Prozac for depression. At first I was keeping track of any side effects; “may cause drowsiness” and “stop using if you develop a third row of teeth.” Fortunately that didn’t happen, but something else did: I started writing. I write every day. I’ve almost filled up my second journal.
I write at the kitchen table.
My journal is a college-lined notebook I picked up at Target for four bucks. I use a ball point pen to print entries. I sit at the kitchen table with my journal and a cup of coffee and write. It’s quiet in the kitchen. Especially when I’m the only one there. I need quiet. It helps settle my mind. And the words flow. Subjects are all over the place; how I slept, the dreams I had, the fears that bother me, how to find peace of mind, when will we pay off the credit card.
It’s not so much where I do my best writing. It’s how honest I am with myself when I do.
But I still like my kitchen table.