I usually write on a computer. I find that odd sometimes, because I have always found a clean sheet of paper and a smooth-writing pen pure inspiration. My hand, however, is rarely able to keep up with my mind, and my handwriting degenerates into unreadable, thoughts get lost, and the whole thing turns writing into an exercise in pure frustration. (Poetry is the exception. I still need paper and pen for poetry.) The days of typewriters were no better. My fingers often hit the wrong keys, and I have no patience with myself over that. A computer, though, with a word processing program - now that is my best work-place.

Ideally, I would have a quiet room with peaceful blues and greens decorating it, a few favorite pieces of fantasy art and knickknacks, and a comfy chair and a desk the right height for my keyboard. I would have either no music, or something like world music or new age or gentle classical -anything without words - on the stereo, very softly. Alas, reality is far different.

If I have my keyboard, I can, and often do, write anywhere. I lose myself in what I am writing, and the world around me disappears.

I write at the dining room table with the family squabbling and dogs barking and birds squawking and the stereo booming whatever the last person who got to it set it on, all normal and noisy around me.

I write at my desk in the bedroom with a sport-of-the-season game blaring in the background, my desk cluttered and frequently topsy-turvy. (Although it is topped with some of my favorite bits and pieces - a baby griffin, a Chinese dragon purchased on a trip to Los Angeles almost thirty years ago, a scene of a wizard’s cottage, a sand dollar that my oldest son brought me from a trip to Seattle, a few small stuffed critters, and some tiny eggs from my birds. There is also, regrettably, a collection of tea cups and mugs up there that needs to go back to the kitchen.) But when I’m writing, I really don’t notice the state of the desk. (And yes, I know I actually can do something about the messy desk, but when I do, it never lasts very long. Entropy is strong in my house.)

I would write in the car (this is serious downtime and boredom sends my imagination into overdrive) but I get car sick. I do have a car charger for the computer, though.

I used to think I needed things just right to write. Now I know that if I want things right, then I just need to write.

- She Wolf © 2008