Before we get started on my own humble contribution to the subject, I have to give a shout out to one Mrs. Speegle, whose constant dedication to my art has been of such crucial importance that I'm sure that — without her — I would be a shambling wreck of a man, scribbling missives (in my own juices, likely) on the underside of freeway overpasses.
But more specifically: a few weeks back I was having a hard time wrapping on the Beta draft of Good Friday. I just. Couldn't. Concentrate.
Now I'm not someone who has to be alone when I compose; often enough you will find me espousing the tired cliche of the writer con Macbook ensconced in a local Starbucks, Americano close at hand. But! When the eponymous rubber meets the titular road, I sometimes need utter solitude in order to make disparate story elements dovetail to a satisfactory degree.
So what does the wife do, seeing me in such distress? Rents me a hotel room for the weekend, right next door to our house, practically, and tells me that I have 48 hours of solitude to do what I had to do. So I checked in, laptop in tow, unplugged the TV, and wrote like a maniac for two days.
Good, good times.
Anyhoo, that aside, if I had my druthers I would mos' def get me one o' them Airstream trailers. I mean, it just doesn't get much more Americana than that, am I right? I prefer the Sport 16 model (because it's sporty!).
|Plus it has a bathroom.|
The interior, however, doesn't meet my exacting specifications, and thus I have composed the following art-tastic rendering. Because this is my fantasy, dammit, and I can organize my writing space however I want.
|I know; it's hard to believe I never took an art class.|
Just the essentials here. Place to contemplate, place to sit and write, place for caffeine storage. Place for books. Cool orange retro caster chair. I am a simple man. I have simple needs.
That said, I am once again very tardy what with the promised contest stuff. However, here is a sneak preview of the ultra-cool things to come...