Rambling Raconteur

So I’ve been over at Terrible Minds envying admiring Chuck Wendig’s Murder Writing Shed. Not so much that I want a shed, per se, but the idea of a dedicated work space does have some appeal.

Which sounds ridiculous, since of course I have a desk and chair and computer and all. But that’s where I play games. That association is strong enough that I used to hang a sign off my monitor that read “WORKING” when I was writing. Not to keep anyone else from bothering me–most often I was the only one in the media room–but to remind myself that I was, in fact, working. Not playing an MMO. Or The Sims. Or Peggle.

That plan met with limited success. My dear loving husband’s solution was brilliant: If I couldn’t concentrate because the computer itself was a distraction, then he’d get me a different computer! Thus I was gifted a lovely Macbook with a copy of Scrivener, and released into the wild to write wherever the whim might take me.

Trouble is, mostly it only takes me as far as the kitchen table. That’s on a good day, when I’m feeling professional. The table is at least desk-like. On particularly lazy days, I get no farther than the couch. Even with a cup of a coffee, I’m more than likely to pass out after about three paragraphs.

Some part of my brain looks at solutions like the Wendig Murder Writing Shed and says, “Hey! It would be just like going to work. That’d be a great way to keep yourself on task!”

A more practical part of my brain says, “You’d end up storing flower pots in it. Or something equally boring.”

The loudest part of my brain screams, “OMG I just had the best idea! Guys! Guys! GUYS! Seriously, it’s the awesomest! What if there was this family, and they hunt dragons, and then there’s this wizard, and and and hahahaha, squirrel!”

Maybe I just need to work on that part of my brain and stick to drinking my coffee at the table.