Autumn Writing Challenge, My ideal Writing Environment!
Enter stage left; A barren landscape peeks slowly into view.
The first thing would be no noise. No TV playing, no music, no one else to talk to. Nothing but sweet blessed silence enveloping me in it’s warm embrace. The only sounds: my breathing and the click clack of keys as words poured forth from my fingertips.
Lighting would be next, something resembling about 8 am on a fall day where the sun is still burning through the morning mist, naturally defused around me without glaring me in the face from any point. No shadows or bright spots to pull the eye, no distractions from mirages in the air.
A desk, table, slab of rock or tree, a makeshift doohickey of some kind that resembles a flat surface upon which to place a monitor, mouse, and keyboard. It’s really immaterial what it is as long as the function is served. A invisible field of stationary force would suffice if it came down to it. A cable buried in the ground, or running off to the horizon providing an internet connection. Google, the researchers assistant, needs juice to reach.
A chair, not a bench nor stool. Comfortable, inviting, even soul sucking in it’s ability to swallow me as soon as contact is made. A cross between a beanbag, hammock, and executive chair. The kind of chair you fight your office mates for. The kind of chair you lock up in the closet so no one else can get their mitts on it. Not some battery powered vibrating monstrosity either.
An equally comfortable ottoman, or a smaller chair on wheels to prop my feet up on should the need arise to just kick back and think. Or in the event that a word storm appears, something to brace against while the deluge of point and counterpoint spar with prose and wit on the pages of my mind.
The temperature somewhere between a warm beach and a cool autumn breeze. Neither hot enough to need shade or fan, nor cold enough to necessitate sweater or blanket. The perfect blend balanced on a razor’s edge high above the ground.
Trail mix, granola, a bowl of mystery jelly beans, or some other snack food to munch on. Tea, water, juice, beer, a few fingers of scotch if need be. Just enough random sustenance to keep the mind peaked, to spike thought or curiosity for the inevitable moment in time when creativity pauses and writer’s block sets in.
In this perfect environment I would be able to pound furiously and endlessly on the keyboard and produce one epic tome after another. A never-ending pile of award winning novels would appear from the confines of my mind. New creations never seen before, each unique in it’s own right. No series here, no title character found in varying degrees of the same plot book after book.
Then when all is said and done, I would stand up, turn around, and snap back to reality to recharge and renew the battery.
Exit stage left: a sad and lonely barren landscape.