I’ve written on here before about the shift from living alone (for 24 years) to living with a husband, step child and two dogs, and the impact that has had on my writing from a purely practical point of view.
 |
| view from the desk (if I turn round) |
When I first moved into this house, the only place for me to work was the dining room. I wrote at the table, and when we needed something bigger than the kitchen table to eat at — if we had more than two people for dinner — I could magically twitch my nose, shove all my writing paraphernalia into a cupboard, whip out a tablecloth and — ta-da! — the room became a dining room again.
 |
| the old set up |
It worked for a while. I was proud of my ability to compromise. It made sense to have a dual-purpose room. It was, spoilt, first-world and middle-class of me to complain that I didn’t really have my own writing space. We wouldn’t be staying here forever, and I looked forward to moving into a house where I could prioritise a room of my own once again. I would be happy with a tiny box, just so long as it didn’t have to be anything BUT a study. And we don’t entertain much, so the occasions when I had to transform the room back into a dining room were infrequent.
 |
| too many chairs but nowhere to sit! |
And yet. The room never felt right. The table was too big and invariably ended up in a mess, which I hated because I like order. There was an armchair but I never sat in it because the room was so dominated by the table that it never felt like somewhere to relax. And when we did use it as a dining room I felt that all my shoved-into-a-cupboard writing was judging me. As for that move — well, it’s still on the horizon, but we know now that, for various reasons, we are here for the duration.
It was time to transform this dual-purpose room. Out with the table — it became the kitchen table, and the kitchen table found a new home. One of the sofas was moved into the room-formerly-known-as-the-dining-room. Most excitingly, for the first time in my life, I bought a brand-new, very lovely, solid oak desk.
 |
| my lovely new desk |
I now have a proper room of my own. It felt selfish, in a way, to claim this whole space, which is much bigger than I need, but in fact, rendering the room single-purpose has actually made it more flexible. I now have a comfy place to sit and read. When my husband is watching the racing on TV I have somewhere to go that isn’t the kitchen. I can entertain my friends here, or knit and listen to podcasts, or simply read.
 |
| somewhere to sit and read |
Has it improved my writing? Well, only time will tell, but it certainly hasn’t hurt it.
 |
| tiny bookcase — £15 in a charity shop |
