Dispatches from a go-gettin journalist. Because not all Army wives live behind the lines...

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Home Office

My first day of class went... well...

Until last week I never noticed that I've been living in a mental box. I signed up for class and my back-to-school mind thought the best thing to do was grab a lined notebook, a bic pen, and get ready to take notes.

But when I pulled out my classic notebook and pen, fit hit the shan.

My teacher broke the news to me: I've been living in a creative brain drain for the last 10 years of my life if I think that lined paper and a ballpoint pen will help me think any differently than what I think in my 9 to 5.

Her motivational monologue of how reclaiming my creativity can be the difference between literary life or death was the fuel I needed. For the first time in my "writing" life, I bought a gridded notebook and a multicolored pen set in all sizes and tips. She said this would be my prescription to writing-dom.

Then, she said, create a space, and call it yours.

Well, Superman and my dad created the space (because let's get real, lifting and assembling a home office takes superheroes).

And I call it, mine.

#37 in 2011. Create a home office.

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