size matters…

IMG_9084I’m not supposed to be blogging.  I’m really not. At all.

Yet, here I am.  Again.

Why, you ask?  Because I’m a writer.  What does that mean, you ask?

Being a writer means I have control over how I arrange my words on paper.  It means I have an overwhelming desire to write. A lot.  What it doesn’t mean, at least for this red-headed chick, is that I can rid my writer’s brain of a thought once it settles in with a glass of wine and a blankie, like it owns me.

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s that once this gust of a word storm in my head occurs – it. can’t. be. stopped.

This torrid tale begins with a desk debacle.  A where is Karen going to write today? debacle.  I started writing at the cute little glass top desk I found at a consignment shop two years ago.  It fit my dream.  And so I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.

As I wrote I quickly amassed seventy-five, eight by eleven pages that ran the gamut from the preface to the end.  Realizing my dilemma, I developed a sixteen folder system that efficiently kept all my writing on various subjects at my fingertips.

What does this have to do with anything, you ask?

My tiny little desk no longer held my folders, lap top, iPad and reference books.  It no longer held my dream.  So I adapted as best as I could.  I erected an old card table; one that wore messy painting oops and wobbly legs.  When I looked at it I was reminded of our journey down here…wobbly legs and all.  This also led me to affirm once again, that in the midst of great uncertainty: anything and everything is possible.

And I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.

But every time we had a showing the messy card table had to be put away and then gotten back out.  Writers are strange creatures.  We are also creatures of habit.  At least this one is.  The temporariness of my other table bugged me. As whispers of OCD filled the air.

Feeling frustrated, I took all my writing toys and moved upstairs to our large pub table in the media room adjacent to Sam’s office.

And I wrote and I wrote and I wrote.  Another hundred some pages.

I wrote the death and grief chapters. I wrote the ending.  I even wrote a surprise after the end.  I wrote the preface.  But still…something felt off.

There is no door between me and my husband’s office. Uh huh. Now. He’s not home very often. BUT. Writers are cave dwellers.  We need a space no one has breathed their words into.  It diffuses our creativity the way kryptonite kills Superman’s mojo.  I felt like a guest in someone’s house.  How could I dream mighty words if I didn’t feel at home inside?

There’s still so much work to do.  Probably the most important work of all.

Due to the temporariness of our almost four year sojourn down here – what with the eighty boxes in the garage and another forty in the attic, things have always felt temporary here.

In the media room upstairs there is a DR Dimes table that used to be our dining table, just sitting there all by its lonesome.  It’s a big, beautiful, tiger maple top table.  HELLO!! (This makes me think of Adele and how I can’t wait to go to her concert in October). Ahem. The table.  Its legs are currently black which messes with the feng shui color scheme of my office. Sorry. Eventually I’ll paint the legs charcoal gray.  The interior decorator that lives next door to my writers brain deems it so.

IMG_0137

Today my sweet husband moved the table downstairs to my office.  I can think of nothing better than writing on a table that lived and breathed in Maryland.  My memory place will feel the love and laughter that sat around this beautiful table.  It will be a safe haven for my words until I’m ready to release them out loud. My writing home until we move back to Maryland.

On Monday I will sit myself down and dream mighty words once again.  And while I’m positive this table that comfortably seats six, will be able to house all my writing needs – I know it will never be big enough to hold all my dreams.

Dreams can’t be held.  Only released into the Universe so they can breathe.

ps.  Of course once I’m all settled into my desk, we’ll probably get an offer on the house.  wink wink

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About drapersmeadow4

I am a writer, thinker, life-long learner, and philosopher of all things, who also happens to be Irish, sarcastic and very intuitive. I'm an 'every-aged' woman who never plans on growing up, just evolving as I go. Passion is my guiding force. My husband and I are enjoying life immensely in our Not So Empty Nest and beyond, by celebrating each and every day as it comes to us.
This entry was posted in Humor, Inspiration, Life, Musings, Women, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to size matters…

  1. Loved you taking me through this journey from glass top to the magnificent wooden table… Dreams…………. well… no table will ever be large enough… But I know for now it will help keep your desires in one place… As you write and create, and bring more of your Dreams into your reality…
    Enjoy your new location to write.. And Enjoy a Creative 2016 .. Love and Blessings.. Sue xxx

  2. I have also out-written at my little computer desk. And my strong wooden file cabinet broke – TODAY – as I tried to jam it with more writing projects. I need to find another safe quiet writing space – still looking. Best of luck with yours.

  3. lorriebowden says:

    I love your wonderful writing space, Karen! That green is one of my favorite colors 🙂 so happy to see you here 🙂 Best wishes for this new year!

  4. SueSchneid22 says:

    🙂 I love hearing you express your convictions about the writer in you….

  5. reocochran says:

    January starts a new beginning and new location for your continued writing, Karen. I love the light spring green color of this room. I enjoyed hearing and seeing your Maryland desk/table, too. You can see the gorgeous grain of your tiger maple wood. ♡ ♡
    Happy New Year, Karen. Robin

  6. Sherri says:

    Blessings to you dear Karen as you write and dream and live,,, ~ Sherri ❤

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