In the fourteen years I’ve been married, my husband and I have lived in a wide variety of places, from an attic flat in Cambridge, England to a wood-shingle house in suburban Connecticut to an apartment in New York City. In all these homes I’ve managed to find a corner to have as my writing space (in one house we lived in I had my computer in a small windowless closet, but still, it was mine). As our living spaces became smaller and our family grew bigger my corner was very small indeed, and sometimes it was just the kitchen table. I learned to write with children cavorting around me and a toddler on my lap, but I’ve always dreamed of the day when we’d live in a house large enough for a proper study, as Virginia Woolf put it, ‘a room of one’s own’.
Six months ago we moved to the wet and windy coast of Cumbria in northwest England, into a two hundred year old vicarage with plenty of space. My dream was realized! Technically I don’t have a room of my own; I have half the upstairs hallway, but it’s more space than I ever had before and the views are spectacular. For the first time I have my own desk as well as space for bookshelves and a cozy chair usually occupied by my children as they wait for the computer. The only downside is the windows are old and draughty and my fingers can freeze. I’ve solved that problem for the most part with a hot water bottle on my lap that I rest my hands on periodically.
I don’t have any special trinkets or mementoes on my desk; I did have my RITA finalist flag and a pink glass paperweight my editor gave me, but both of those were played with and semi-destroyed by my toddler, and so now I keep my desk pretty clear. When I’m writing I like to have a cup of coffee, my trusty hot water bottle, and I start a work morning off with some toast as well. The only other thing I need is my imagination and a grim determination to get the words on the page!
I love my new work space, but if I’m honest I’d like it a bit warmer and a bit more private. My computer is used by our children as well, and as they get older they want to use it quite a bit more. So I still dream, just a little bit, of a room of my own--the top floor of our house is the old servant’s quarters and is unrenovated, but maybe one day we’ll fix it up and I’ll have a proper study, complete with fireplace and view of the sea. Or maybe I’ll just be happy as I am. Ultimately it doesn’t really matter where I write, as long as the stories keep coming.
What about you? Whether you write or scrapbook or something else, do you dream of a room of your own? What would your dream room look like?
To read more about Kate Hewitt and her intense emotional romances about visit Kate's website http://www.kate-hewitt.com/. Her latest release The Lone Wolfe is available wherever good books and ebooks are sold.