A couple of weeks ago my wife and daughter toured the James Whitcomb Riley house in Indianapolis. They returned, offering me insights as to what a "real" writers house should look like. But evidently, Riley didn't own the house people tour today . . . he stayed in the place rent free.
Okay, but as for me and my house . . . I'll offer the following as staples of a writer's residence.
A Good Writing Desk
I don't have one, but that's beside the point. A writer needs a space to call home. Mahogany looks prestigious by the way. I, on the other hand, write at a pressed-particleboard desk, a kit that I put together out of a box twenty odd years ago.
A Great Writing Chair
I don't have one of these either, but a comfortable chair is essential. Otherwise, a writer ends up looking like me: slumped over and poor-posture. I gave my wife a message-chair for Christmas, so she could write in comfort in her office. Me? I'm still hunched over trying to concentrate with a 25-watt bulb hanging from a string.
Shelves With Lots of Awards
I have lots of shelves. I have no awards. Well . . . I do have the basketball net from the 1969 8th grade county tournament and my "Most Improved" varsity basketball trophy from my sophomore year of HS, but I can't display these. They are in a box in the closet next to my stuffed chipmunk collection. But a writer needs awards so that others will enter the home and say, "You won a Pulitzer?"
A Coffee Pot
I've got one, it does double-duty. Someday I hope to exchange it for a dictionary.
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