|This photo was taken by my mom. You’ll learn lots more about her soon.|
People have romantic notions about writing. We imagine a poet sitting on the rolling hills as he writes about the black-eyed susans swaying in the gently blowing wind. We imagine the romance author sitting on a large boulder in Maine as she chronicles the angst of her character, whose lover was lost at sea.
I love the romanticism of it all, and I am certainly inspired by dramatic events and the beauty of nature around me.
But the places I choose to write, and where I do my best work, are positively mundane.
I wrote the bulk of my latest book in the car. Yes. The car. Here’s why:
- My husband is a certified control freak and he will not let me drive.
- The car is one of the few places on this earth that my young children, 5 and 7, do not monopolize my time, because our current laws (thank you state of Ohio) require they are buckled, strapped, harnessed and unable to move much beyond their arms and legs. This means, of course, it is nearly impossible for them to get into trouble, hit each other, or steal one another’s toys.
- Because of the childrens’ restricted movement, there isn’t much to occupy them on a road trip. Therefore, without parental guilt and anxiety, I load the car up with DVDs galore. (The road trip is the one time when I let the player run incessantly, and we all relish in the devilish nature of it).
- My writing is only interrupted by the not so occasional request for a snack or a break to read a children’s classic I love, like Charlotte’s Web.
Here are some other spots I chose to write my book:
- The tennis courts
- Skating rinks
- The swimming pool
- The car dealership (My car is positively ancient and is always need of a service. Yes. It is always expensive).
- The playground
- Soccer practice