Where Do You Work?
I’m typing this with my laptop on my lap, sitting in my recliner in front of the fireplace. I have an office with a desk, and I write there sometimes, but it’s so cozy here, with a cat on each arm of the chair, the dog snoring on the floor beside me, and the ambiance of the fireplace, with my favorite classical music playlist on the speakers, that I especially enjoy writing this way in winter.
The nice thing about being a writer, as opposed to an artist in another medium, is that, theoretically, one can write anywhere. Though that is technically true, it might not feel that way. When I was studying in Paris during my junior year abroad, I couldn’t write in my tiny garret. It felt claustrophobia, and also silly to stay inside and write with Paris out there waiting. I preferred to take a small pocket notebook and my favorite Le Petit Prince fountain pen and scribble away in a park or while riding the métro, or at a museum. As an art history student, I had free entrance to most museums in the European Union, and I took full advantage of this, visiting my favorite paintings several times a week.
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