I’ve always been intrigued by peeking in on other writer’s desks or spaces. Maybe I think I’m going to spot something on their desk that unveils the secret of the writing universe. Or maybe I think I’m going to spy the exact item that leads to immediate publication. But mostly, I guess, I just enjoy knowing what inspires people, what makes their brains click into that mode that channels the muses and lets them pour out hundreds of thousands of imaginary words on a page.

My own writing space has been in existence for more than 10 years. Certain things have changed in minor ways – I used to have a fax machine that began to feel archaic a few years ago, so I ditched it. And that printer has changed shapes, sizes and brands more times than I can count. The chair is an “upgrade” from an uncomfortable one I used for years, and the stacks of papers, of course, change constantly – depending on whether I’m sending out the book club evite or writing the next chapter of Fin and Giselle. I always use bright-colored file folders that balance into more and more precarious stacks: blue means one thing to me, red another, yellow another, etc. It’s my vague way of feeling organized, despite the usual mess.

The things that have always stayed the same, however, are the things I most love: The photos on the wall have been there for 12 years, and were old even then – they were taken by me and my husband in the years we were dating or the early years of our marriage. Continue reading →