Even before the pandemic I had a home office, primarily for my writing, podcasting, and video editing. I also occasionally worked from home, but that was on a whim, because I was blessed with that choice.
Then the pandemic struck and working from home became the norm. As time passed this created an unforeseen problem: I now associate my personal home office with my day job, and after the work day is over I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
This is a problem because this is where I would write my fiction, which is my catharsis. So my fiction writing started happening away from home, mainly in my local pub.
Spending a lot of time at a local pub added up to its own set of problems.
- It gets expensive.
- Beer caused me to gain weight.
- Increased exposure to the pandemic germs.
So I stopped going to the pub, which is sad because I love it. Still, I don’t like the excess 30 pounds and the drain on my wallet.
Because I was no longer going to this home away from home, and I was avoiding the home office, I needed a new place to write fiction. So I thought, well, there is space in the basement.
The previous owners of my shabby but comfortable little house had bought the place to flip it, but ended up not being able to do so, and the result was a not-quite-completed renovation. It appeared they were aiming to convert the basement to a bedroom, and there is an unfinished area that was probably meant to be a closet.
My old gaming desk and a set of wire shelves fit in there perfectly. I put in a cheap old lamp from Target, a HomePod for music, a heater (because it gets chilly), and bought a cat-proof wooden chair off Amazon – and the whole thing came together.
Lo and behold, I sat down in it and wrote a good 4000 words last night, the first solid fiction writing session in months.
Success! A new novel is on its way.