When I go to a writer’s conference, I try to stand out.
I don’t mean walking down the hallway with a trail of toilet paper attached to my shoe, but stand out from other writers by talking to people.
Many writers are introverted.
I can do that and writing all day creates the situation naturally.
However, I crave being around others, finding out what they write and whether they write in their pajamas as I do.
Just to ease your mind, I’m now fully dressed with earrings and watch but still have on my bedroom slippers. I love bedroom slippers.
So does Kaiser.
He’s ruined more slippers than I care to remember and when he can’t find my slippers, he goes after my shoes.
A couple of days ago, I had been working at my computer beginning in the early morning and realized that it was 3:00 in the afternoon, when the dogs went crazy.
Typically, that means that Mr. UPS or Mr. FEDEX, or the Mail lady is dropping off something.
When the dogs didn’t stop barking and the doorbell rang I knew it was someone else. I peeked around the corner, still in my pajamas and realized that it was the ADT security guy wanting to sell me a system.
I yelled at him through the door that I didn’t require his services, as the dogs readied to go through the glass door.
I doubt I’ll ever see him again.
At 3:15, I decided I had better get in the shower.
I suppose all writers have eccentricities.
Although I’ve never been privy to seeing another author’s workspace, I can tell you that it most likely will involve a comfy chair, a place to spread out all the research materials, files and lots of books.
Since I’m right handed, I like my stapler, mouse, paper clips, pens and pencils, and post it notes to my right. Everything else can go to my left or wherever there’s space on the floor.
I will also tell you that you are not to touch anything.
If you need something, you’d never find it.
This is the general rule with my purse too.
There’s no telling what’s in there.
Once Kaiser sniffed out a Snicker’s bar in my purse and I found remnants of chocolate and paper all over the place- it was in a zippered pocket and he managed to rip out the lining to get it.
Sometimes I hate that dog.
I have to admit that my office has merged with the dining room, so I’m now close to the refrigerator and the dogs can sleep on the couch within sight of me.
I suppose that most writers have a regular office space.
I know of one writer that wrote his first book on his sailboat.
He got to the last 2 paragraphs, a storm suddenly appeared, lightening hit his mast and his laptop was fried, along with the boat.
Luckily he had a good memory, so when his eyebrows grew back, he rewrote the book.
He thought that was just a coincidence until his two other sailboats got struck by lightning. Then he acquiesced to Higher Powers and moved to an office to write.
Other people go on retreats to write but have so much fun by the roaring fire and getting facials and massages that they only get a few paragraphs done.
An artist friend said I needed a room with several windows so that I could look out of them.
I told her that if I ever looked out the window, I’d never write.
Since watching sleeping dogs is no fun, I usually get a lot done.
I don’t think I’ve met another writer who likes to write in PJs, then again, I’m not sure anyone would admit to it.
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It's a great day to wear slippers.