The Writer’s Shack

The entryway.  Not an easy place to gate crash. 

For some reason, successful writers often find it easier to write in their own little house that is not fancy. 

You can’t imagine what it is like to force yourself into the shaping of a story. Any little noise -- the arrival of a package, the shenanigans of a pet, the clinking of dishes, even the breathing of one’s mate — give the writer an excuse to prick up her ears and intervene. Something must be needing my attention over there.

But no.

If there is screaming, maybe blood, then I will surely have to take action, but usually it is nothing worth the not writing, except for the wily demon of writing that does not like to be forced to result.

All the writing that ever needed to be done has been done and by people better than me, so at a certain point, when you have proven that you could have written, you can just stop now and do mild things, especially on your day off from a tiring day job. You are excused.

So the building is brought to bear on reproaching you, and if there is a nap sofa, there is not even the need to go upstairs too far away from the scene of the crime.

I have always insisted on a nap sofa for my writing room, as well as a tea set, for when people need to visit. It is a great thing to have writing visitors. It means you are holding forth in the world, and that feeds the art. 

Let’s take a look at some of these writers’ shacks:

I have written five plays about architecture. It was no doubt my fate at a certain point to have my own building project. So here it is, at a good price point, and that is almost free, the Writing Shack Boat that does not float

A friend of mine — a very successful playwright — had a similar item, and it was assuredly floating in an elegant slip, but the idea is the same. A water shack for the art.

My ready-made building that is mostly in need of sanding and painting, with a tiny touch of fiberglass work on the cabin, is an odyssey, a journey of transformation. I don’t have it in me to rip out the benches while employed in what is essentially manual labor — though that could happen just because in retirement, after that wood-working class, while the outdated wiring could be a way to get my office off-grid even in Seattle. And where will I really put the bathroom? At this point there is $50 a month and two hours a week and the coffee shop down the street.  

The pantry is mostly a collection of snacks that can be enjoyed as they are or with boiling water from an electric tea kettle. 

© Joann L. Farias 2023