Sunday, May 29, 2011
Where I Write
A couple of weeks ago, when I finished “Desert Wind,” the 7th Lena Jones mystery, I let out a big WHOOP! My husband came running. “What’s happened now?” he asked.
“Done, done, done! Isn’t it wonderful?”
After a long silence, he finally said, “Actually, it’s pretty horrible.”
Hubby is still alive because he wasn’t talking about my book; he was talking about the state of my den (see picture), which, I’ll admit, was horrible. You see, I don’t generally clean up as I go, at least when it comes to writing. I don’t edit until I finish my first draft, and I don’t tidy up my work room until I’ve written “The End.” If you think I’m exaggerating, take a close look at that picture. See? That’s around a year’s worth of papers and dust bunnies scattered across the floor. My den is usually so awful that my husband, who himself isn’t known for being a neaknik, refuses to enter except in dire emergencies, such as heart attacks or fires.
Well, okay, to be honest, last year he did come in when I was having a gall bladder attack, and dragged me to the hospital, where I stayed for five days, finally emerging without said gall bladder. And before you ask, yes, I’d written for two days while doubled up and moaning. Turned out some of my finer passages, too.
Anyway, as my husband surveyed the sump pit that is my den, he said, “Don’t move,” then disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a camera. “Smile for the birdie.” I did, and he snapped the picture. When he looked at the digital display, he decided that with me in it, I hid too much of the mess, so he snapped the next picture with me out of the way. We both like that one better.
Yes, the walls of my den really are red. Almost the color of dried blood, if you will, which I think is quite fitting for a mystery writer. As far as the mess goes, I’ve always worked well in messes. Those of you who’ve ever taken a tour through a busy newsrooms know that journalists aren’t known for the neatness. We. Don’t. Like. To. Throw. Things. Out.
Just call us the hoarders of the writing world.
Where do YOU write? And how neat is that place? Feel free to respond to this blog and share the nasty truth about your writing habits. I promise not to tell anyone what a slob you are.