Writing Space

I could not ask for better parents as a writer. Last June, my parents sat me down to have a heart to heart. They felt that I was wasting my "talent" and that I should really work hard on my writing because it "is marketable." I expressed my own problems with this. It's easy to say that I need to focus on my writing. However, my house is crazy. My parents run a business out of the bedroom next to mine. That means that my room is never quiet enough to write in. They also like to play this game called, "Let's Only Talk When We're in Seperate Rooms" which gets really annoying when you are trying to concentrate. Finally, any time I get into a really good swing, they order me to do something.

I love my parents and I don't mind helping out but that makes it really hard to "focus" on my "writing."

My awesome mother's solution? "Maybe we shuld get you a desk and put it down stairs." Now, I have to admit, I avoid said desk. The basement is usually very cold and it always smells like cat pee. The desk itself is massive and 90sesque. I have done my part to make it seem like home. I picked up a bottle of Fabreeze and some tea lights, that go in my cute little duck candle holders, for the smell. I put out the duck candle holders and a little witch candle holder. I have tried. But I'm not allowed to put out anything else because "people will see it."

The other day I went downstairs to play pool. I glanced over at the desk corner and sighed. My mother, who has taken to vending at Red Hat events, had piled hats and head bands on it. Under it was a huge box of stuff. I felt bad. I haven't done as much as I should.

This morning, I moved Mom's stuff and lit the tea lights. For a half hour, which was all that I could fit in before work, and I edited. It was actually pretty nice.

You know what they say: Butt+Chair