Or a teepee. Pretty much anything really (although an Igloo might not work in this climate). I just need something to get my creative self out of the house and into a work-conducive environment. I’ve been inspired by seeing Chuck’s new Myth Lab, and I really wish I could set up a similar space in which to do all of my writing more or less undisturbed.
Problem: my house is about the size of a very small house. There’s no possibility of fitting a shed, and even if there was, the Tree of Death that looms over our yard would smash it flat anyway. Probably with me in it (the big woody monster keeps dropping limbs on us. It’s fine to garden out there for a little while, but there’s a certain “Damocle’s Sword” feeling to the whole thing…)
So that brings me to the next logical options:
- murder the neighbours and annex their home (don’t worry, not the cool neighbours)
- buy a pedal powered movement device and get thyself to a cafe with a laptop
- move.
The first option has logistical considerations that I’m not keen to work out, so I’m left with the latter two.
A bike, especially a folding bike, could be great as a short term option, but I wouldn’t be truly undisturbed. Eventually my froth encrusted cup would be taken away and I’d be obliged to order another long black, and both my money and my ability to sit still would evaporate. A library would be great, if only one were nearby…
So really I want to move to a new house. One with a huge yard, without sinister trees, and an abundance of shed. Anyone feel like lending me a few hundred K?
In other news, the synopsis is motoring along, and plenty of scenes are being either cut off or cut down. Exciting!
May your beards grow long (ladies, grow whatever you like) and your children plump and jolly (or liquor cabinets, or wordcounts. Whatever’s your thing).
Best regards,
D.R.Sylvester
D.R.Sylvester Fiction 
Writing cave? Take me there.
I need a cave for my creativity so badly. My desk is the only place with a comfy chair, but I hate the feeling that someone’s always watching what I write. I have four options at this point:
A: Murder the neighbors (aside from the ones that are my dad’s coworkers, they’re extremely annoying and never STFU with the loud music when it’s 11 PM and I’m trying to sleep)
B: Get myself to the library so I can have some peace and quiet (and maybe check out a book or two, who knows).
C: Move.
D: Find some sort of solution.
Since A and C are impossible (and since A is irrational and risky), I’ll have to choose choice D. But where in this house am I going to find peace and quiet besides the bathroom…?
Hah! The way you asked to be taken to a writing cave made me think of it as a kind of Narnia or Neverland.
What would that look like? A magical portal into a place with coffee rivers and bourbon waterfalls, where trees have pages instead of leaves. They fall and tumble in the winds, forming drifts of curling pulp, a feast for the snuffling droves of verbivorous dust jackets. There’s free wifi as far as the eye can see…
It helps to have a good bathroom, it really does. My peace and quiet at the moment comes predominantly after everyone has gone to sleep…
Good luck finding your solution!
I can lend you a hammer and donate a bag of rusty nails to the cause. Any good?
I can scrounge some wood and we’ll have practically built the perfect writing space already! Huzzah! Or should I build it out of myrh? Obsidian? Peacock feathers and tin foil… Pass me those nails before I change my mind