So, apparently some random genie has found me here in upstate New York, and has decided to grant a wish I didn’t even realize I had, to create the ultimate reading and writing room for me. I only hope she can create two rooms instead of one because I would never want to do my reading in the same room as my writing, but they could be right next to each
other, connected by a small bridge over a small brook. Ooh, and the rooms could be entire structures unto themselves, so the bridge would be outside, with birds circling overhead and a footpath leading from my writing room to the main house just beyond the hedge. Oh, and the hedge would be cut into shapes (like in Edward Scissorhands), so if you were looking out of the window of the writing room you could see it and be inspired. But, wait. I’m getting ahead of myself.
Inside the writing room:
** There are six walls, one for each novel I’ve written. They are eight feet high so I can fit comfortably in the room without feeling claustrophobic. They are also equidistant from the desk that is in the center of the room. The desk is large, queen-sized bed large, but it is open underneath, no drawers at all.
** There is a heated pool in the eastern corner. It is for me to soak my feet while I’m in the middle of projects. Steam rises from it and coats the window with a fine fog that also helps to inspire my writing.
** There are three chairs in the room. Surprisingly, there are none set up at the desk. They are spread out in the northern, southern, and western corners of the room instead. All three are made of leather, so they are smooth but not so comfortable that I will fall asleep in them.
I will gladly give tours of my writing room to visitors, but they have to consent to writing a short piece while inside the room that they will leave in the room. It will be affixed to one of the six walls to join the short writing pieces already there.
Now, the outside of my reading room is covered in ivy, you know the kind that covers
university buildings and the outfield wall of Wrigley Field in Chicago. This ivy will be self-growing, so each year it will be even thicker without completely consuming the building that houses the room. There are no windows in the reading room so when you’re inside you’re completely encapsulated, almost as if in a sort of wonderland. It is half the size of the writing room. There is a small cobblestone path leading from the back of the reading room to the main house, just as with the writing room.
Inside the reading room:
** There are ceiling to floor bookshelves, made of mahogany. On each bookshelf are classics mixed with modern books, from Hemingway to Evanovich, and beyond.
** There are only four walls, but each one is stocked with books.
** There are two chairs, one on each side of the center line that bisects the room. Both are plush, and both are situated close enough to each other that their occupants can pass books to each other of they so choose.
** Only two people at a time are allowed to read in the room. One would have to leave the room for another to come in. A series of chairs sit on the path outside the room for people in the queue for entrance to the reading room.
No tours are allowed in the reading room. Trespassers will be tossed if they are not reading in the reading room..
Sam
Edward will have to trim back the ivy around the window so people can see to read.
No worries. I have artificial light. 😉