In a stroke of good luck, I found a book to read at Dollar General. It was well priced and has been one of the better paranormal novels I have read in a while.
The novel, The String Diaries by Stephen Lloyd Jones is a story of a family’s struggle with an immortal that can turn himself into anyone he chooses.
The storyline so far has been great, but the thing that struck me was in the first part of the book where one of the initial main characters, Charles Meredith, is a college professor at Balliol College on a book deadline.
Charles describes in detail where and why he likes to do his work in a certain portion of the college library.
He describes “his table,” near the statue of St. Catherine, where surrounded by books on the shelves he could look out the windows to the front quad. He was near the portrait of George Abbot, one of the former Canterbury Archbishops, and a translator of the King James Version of the Bible.
He told himself that it was the atmosphere at that particular table that made him so possessive of it, but later learned that it was a lie he had told himself. He couldn’t do any real work anywhere else.
Was it a just an OCD thing?
Maybe, but it is very possible that it is a writer’s thing too.
I find that I have particular places where I can be more productive than at others and I am rather possessive of any certain table that I like.
I prefer either of two of the larger chain bread cafes.
I need a place near the drink station, and the bathrooms. (This is probably due to my addiction to unsweet iced tea and lemon.) I prefer a booth and it must have an electric hook up for my laptop.
Of course, by its nature, the café has delicious sandwiches and pastries. These selections tend to help me along as I create whatever I am working on at the time, whether it is a short story, one of my two novels in progress or my literary magazine, Bohemian Renaissance.
Since I have moved to an area that does not feature either of these two cafes, I am somewhat at a loss.
I have a spacious office and I am trying to make it a productive area, but even with drinks and snacks, it is not the same.
I suppose that in a place somewhat far from home, it is easier to imagine and live inside my head, as many writers and artists tend to do.
The cafes provide a dual solution to my needs.
I get away from home and escape to a world of my creation.
I have a place to pass time when I am bored, giving me the feeling that I am doing something, plus I can turn out a great many words.
I believe that the mentality of the creative force needs a special space that will nurture the product of any genre of literature or art.
I wonder where J.R. R Tolkien did most of his writing. For if anyone ever lived splendidly in his own head, it had to be Tolkien.