My Sweet Spot

Many a blog has been written about where and when writers are at their most productive, with some even adhering to strict rules regarding their writing spaces and the times during which they can even begin to consider producing pages.  Most would like to say that they can do it anywhere, because it goes hand-in-hand with the age-old adage that writers just write, and for some of us, that's what we have to do in order simply to stay content.  Therefore, it should hold true that for writers to write, they should be able to do it anywhere the muse should happen to strike them.

Unfortunately, this isn't always the case, especially for writers who need a certain ambiance in order to do what they do, like environments that allow for background music, or for some the lack of any background noise at all.  I have an office at home where I work, and in fact I've always had a designated place to write for as long as I can remember.  But when I got my first laptop, back when iPads and such weren't as commonplace as they are now and desktops were the only starting points, I considered myself free to compose wherever and whenever.  I looked forward to this freedom all my life, fixated on the newest gizmos that would allow me to take the writing desk with me wherever I went.

Time was never that important.  When I was doing it full time, I treated it like any full-time job.  I wrote and edited all day long, and the time of day became irrelevant, influenced only by when I'd run out of gas.  Now, however, the time to write has become a commodity, and I was forced to find that perfect time in my schedule where I could do what it is that I need to do to sustain me.

So enter the bedroom, on any weekend morning, and you'll find me there.

I have found that during the waking hours, in bed, is where it works for me now.  Sure, I still use my office, but that's for editing now.  Saturday and Sunday mornings (regardless of a gig the night before) see me up and stumbling to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.  Then on the way back to bed, I grab the laptop.

Then the still-sleeping mind slowly unravels itself onto the keyboard.

Sometimes the thrill is not remembering what I'd done in those waking hours, because as it goes I'm strong for about three hours, and then I have to stop for fear of losing quality.  I put the laptop back in my office, and the rest of the day is me walking in and out, sitting in front of the laptop for a tweak here and there before wandering off again.  This works for me now, especially with this new manuscript, in which I've just hit ten chapters and over 100 pages.

Where is your sweet spot?

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