Pick a Place
The best places to write
They tell you in every "Introduction to Creative Writing" class to write what you know. Usually, that refers to the heavy stuff—heartbreak or the specific way your hometown smells after it rains. But I’ve realized it applies much more literally to the where.
If you try to manufacture a writer’s persona by forcing yourself into a minimalist studio with a mahogany desk, your brain might stay as blank as the walls. Sometimes, the muse doesn’t live in a studio. Sometimes, he or she’s hanging out in the Walmart shoe aisle. There is a specific clarity that comes from sitting on a cold linoleum floor, surrounded by the faint scent of rubber soles and discounted Dr. Scholl's. It’s not aesthetic, but it’s real.
My best work doesn’t happen because I’ve curated a vibe; it happens because I’ve leaned into the chaos of my actual life. Sometimes that means I’m hunched over a desk like a gargoyle. Other times, it’s the couch, where the crumbs in the cushions provide more inspiration than a vision board.
And quite often, the most profound sentences are formed while laying on the floor face-to-face with my dog. There is nothing like a deadline to make a dog decide your face is a gourmet lollipop. I’ll be mid-metaphor, and suddenly, a giant wet tongue resets my laptop screen. I try to contemplate the human condition, but it’s hard when my dog views my typing fingers as aggressive spiders that must be pinned down by a heavy paw for my own safety.
Don’t try to manufacture a workspace that looks like a stock photo. If your reality involves a soggy chew toy being dropped onto your spacebar or a size 12 shoe as your primary backdrop, write there. Write what you know even if what you know is that it’s impossible to be pretentious when your co-editor just sneezed directly into your open mouth.
