Monday, March 2, 2009

Visions of Writing

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, animals both domesticated and wild, let it snow.

The above picture is a view from where I am writing this post. And, quite often, the view I see while I'm writing in general. It is a spot in my kitchen, a little corner where I lay out all my writing tools--laptop, pens, notebook, day's reference material, and, on days like today that are snowy and hovering somewhere around eight degrees, a bottomless cup of coffee.

I'm messing with a story that deals with how as children we envision our adult selves and how close our adult selves hit that mark. I began thinking about my younger writing self. That younger self envisioned for me some gargantuan mahogany desk, me at the helm, an entire library at my fingertips, a leather bound dictionary on a pedestal designed by H.R. Giger. After all, inspiration must come from art and art must come from inspiration. One helps the other, and so the workplace must represent the work, and the work must therefore represent the workplace.

I'm now sitting by a window, at my kitchen table, watching the snowfall, wondering if that childhood vision of myself did really come true, if I hit the mark.

Probably not. Oh well, time to go shovel.

Later Fiends.


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