Friday, August 6
My Writerly Comforts and Undies
Exactly where I’m headed with this topic today.
What exactly do we writers need to make our lives more comfortable. Easy. Relaxed. Beneficial even.
No, it’s not entirely about underwear. Chances are I could type in a g-string if I absolutely HAD to, but God willing, we’ll never find out.
So, let’s start with our chair. Ergonomically correct it said on the side of the box when I bought it twelve years ago.
Now it’s more dilapidated than ergonomic. But that’s ok. We fit each other. My butt cheeks are permanently carved into the cushions.
My desk is a banquet table, and I change the tablecloth with the seasons, just to keep it perky. I have a variety of pens and pencils, stacks of paper, twenty or so books on writing in case I get stuck, some random pieces of jewelry, coupons for a free breakfast at Taco John.
I almost always wear sweats and a tee, in a variety of eye popping colors and patterns. Today is sweats of neon green with blue stripes and an I Heart IA t-shirt I bought for two bucks.
I’m generally barefoot, except in the vicious Iowa winters, and then it’s my brown slippers that look like humongous bear feet. The cats love those.
And every now and then a new object slides in, almost like a new baby trying to pass muster into an established family. The latest was the laser printer. Oh, the cats went wild. As soon as I fired it up, three or four cats went running for cover. When the paper came out with a little crinkle and whoosh, they all leapt into the air simultaneously and scattered to the four winds.
Then I put the green froggie towel over the top of the laser, and within moments a cat will be found sound asleep on the beast.
I’ve added in a USB extender, a packet of cat treats, and an incense reed thingie I have NO idea how to work. Plus a fleece Christmas blanket in a violent green with dancing Santa’s and reindeer slung over the back of my much-maligned chair.
These are things that make me comfortable. And I think what makes us comfortable, makes us better able to concentrate on the writing, and less likely to wonder why our red lace g-string is climbing up into no-man’s land.
And underwire bras? Let’s not even go there.
So, what’s all in your comfort zone? What makes it easier for you to write and relax and “get in the zone”?
And sure, feel free to tell us about your underwear. Inquiring minds want to know.
(who didn’t mention scotch-a-roos as a writerly comfort, but should have)