This is where my stories take shape—in a converted bedroom after the nest had emptied years ago. When I began working here, the desks were joined in an L-shape. The longest section was out of reach and therefore unused. So, my husband redesigned the desk. Since then, every inch is used. (I cleared off the mess for you!)

My space is much different from Mark Twain’s pink office with a view behind the desk and a pool table in front. Unlike his office design, I prefer to look out at the perennial garden and twisted oak limbs. If it were possible, I’d have French doors, swing them open, and let nature freewheel inside, like Virginia Woolf’s writing shed.

But on occasion, we have rattlesnakes.

Sometimes, I’m interrupted by birds outside, on the window ledge, cottontails chewing on the grass, and a seasonal turkey whose head pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box to peer inside. Often, on the weekends, my husband taps on the window, bidding me come outside to engage in a different type of work.

Physical labor.

There are many forms of labor, each shuffled into our lives by choice, necessity, or passion. The space in which we work matters a great deal. It doesn’t have to pretty. It doesn’t have to be a separate room. Your work surface doesn’t have to be a desk. Depending on your needs, a folding table, like I once used, is oftentimes sufficient.

Creating a perfect home workspace just needs to be comfortable in ways that mentally recharge your creative focus.