Give Me Some Space

My computer is in my bedroom, and as I write these words the dog is under my chair gnawing on my tennis shoe. One son is on the floor behind me doing hand stands, and another is on my bed talking on the phone. I don’t think it ever occurs to them that they might be just a teensy bit distracting.

Over the years I have moved my work space from one room to another in search of the perfect place to write, but it doesn’t seem to make a big difference. After years of working at home and sharing my computer with my kids, I finally came to the conclusion that there has to be a better way. I just wasn’t sure what it was.

Then last week Bill and I saw a movie that featured Diane Keaton as a successful writer. While we were watching it I poked Bill in the side and whispered, “Notice anything about her house, Bill?”

“Like what?”

“Like there is no noise! No washer and dryer buzzing, dog barking, or kids yelling, and it’s on the beach.”

“We can’t afford a beach house but you could get an office,” he said.

I munched a handful of popcorn. An office, now why hadn’t I thought of that?

A few weeks later I was having lunch with my friend Sharon when I remembered Bill’s suggestion.

“Doesn’t your office have an empty room?”

“Yes, why?”

“Because I’m going bonkers trying to write at my house. Would you consider renting it to me?” I asked. We worked out the details and in a few days I’ll be moving in.

When I told my 12-year-old twins about my plans, Russell asked, “So are you getting a real job where you dress up, go to work every day, and make lots of money?”

“Not exactly,” I answered and he ran off. Years ago when my 16-year-old son was about the same age as the twins, he tried to convince me to get a weekend job at a burger joint so he could have free french fries.

Russell’s words were a good reminder. I may think of myself as a writer, but when it comes to my children…I’m just Mom. And that’s okay with me, especially now that I have my own space.