Everyone knows how a writer creates a masterpiece. They hibernate in secluded woodsy cabins, channeling Thoreau, as they cuddle next to a roaring fire, penning profound theories, and communing with nature. Some writers become recluses, hoarding poetry in self-bound volumes, and sharing their creations with select friends and family members. Writer’s block frustrations are drowned in alcohol and bad behavior. Today’s modern incarnations haunt coffee shops, with laptops, and earbuds as they compose caffeinated diatribes.
There is no perfect writing space. The challenge of putting words, sentences, and thoughts on a page is also what makes the process so rewarding. I scribble ideas on napkins, sales receipts, and the back of parking tickets. I pound my fingers on the keyboard while sitting in hospital rooms, doctor’s offices, and waiting areas. Notes appear on my phone when the mechanic repairs my car, and during quiet moments at boring social events.
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