Cozy Spaces

Where I write is essential.

If you've followed me on Instagram for some time, then you've been introduced to several of my favorite writing spaces.

There's a coffee shop in my town that is a writer's haven.  It's independent, charity-centered, and downright cozy--even when filled with strangers.  The handcrafted tables and chairs fill the space with artistry, and the tables are topped with glass panes, beneath which lie mounds of raw coffee beans.  Yum.  The smells of coffee and crepes fill the atmosphere, and when you breathe it in, it's like eating the air.  Ahhhhh....

There are several spot in my home that I find cozy writing spaces.  I've written about my writing chair often, but honestly I can't give it enough love.  That armchair has been with me since college, and allowing myself to sink into it is one way of escaping from my world and entering that of someone else.  I'm enveloped in the fabric, and lost to this day and this time.  It's seen its share of life; there are small tears on the edges and marker-drawn lines along the arms (so I have a little reminder of my kids with me when I write), but the chair has also worn into my shape.  It's simply meant for me.

On a beautiful day, no matter the temperature, I'll write on my back porch.  I joke that my house has three porches: the reading porch (screened in), the sunbathing porch (the deck), and the writing porch (under the pergola).  If it's chilly, I wrap myself in a blanket and head on out.  There's something about nature that gets the words flowing for me.  If I'm frustrated with the writing, a walk or a hike re-centers me. 

I've written at the kitchen table, the library, my work desk, and at a hotel, and sometimes that's just fine.  However, given the choice, I like to write someplace cozy.  I can see that I like to be in places where I'm fully enveloped-whether by an aroma, by cloth, or by nature.  I think it's a security thing--I feel safe there, safe to explore and get outside myself.  Safe to become someone else and to listen to the voices in my mind.  Safe to allow myself to become the vessel, the means.  I am most alive in these cozy spaces.