almost, almost

This weekend I get to order the last of the furniture for my writing room. A desk, a hutch and a second file cabinet.

My writing room!!!!

In the house I had previously, it originally had one bedroom. Additional bedrooms were added later. The room I had was the original one bedroom and it was located between the kitchen and the only bathroom in the house. Also because I had more stuff, it was my writing room and partial storage room. A space but not necessarily conducive to creating.

Now I have a room that has a door. Very necessary for creating.

I have spent a lot of time on this room, this creative space and I LOVE IT.

It is variations of brown, light and dark, wood and wicker. Bursts of green: the floor pillows, the plants, the lamp. Jack stares at me with those dark wild eyes, reminding me to seek madness. A young, brooding Marlon is there just to remind me that life is oh so sexy. The stereo plays Bach or Brahms or Vilvaldi; accompanying is the trickling water from the fountain on the table by the chair. A candle to light my way or incense to heighten my senses.

A shelf of books and journals says your work is here and here and here.

Shelves of books encourage me to learn this and this and this.

A wall of awards says you've accomplished that and that and that.

The desk and hutch will take up one wall adjacent to the one with the window. I can turn, look over my shoulder and see the world. I can turn back and return to my creative one.

This time next week, I will have what I have always wanted as a writer. A nurturing peaceful place to create art as well as myself.