So, the wonderful PBW has a new post about the places where writers do their thing, which I found especially interesting because mine has been changing almost constantly for the past year. That’s not a bad thing, especially when one considers how comfy all of those locations have been. It has, however, been a learning experience, the lesson being that I can now write just about anywhere, on anything, at almost any time of the day (although I’m finally getting a full night’s sleep again, so I’m not messing around with that unless I really need to).
Right now? I’m sitting at a rosewood table beside an open window, gazing out at the following:
I have a great life.