Having a comfortable place to write is important to me. It should, ideally, have everything I need. It should be inviting, clean, and pleasing to the senses.
Maybe that seems like too much to ask. Maybe I should learn to write in crowds, or at a restaurant, or on the beach. But I know I can’t. It’s a feature of my INFJ personality (extroverted sensing), and it’s also because I’m a highly sensitive person (HSP).
If I’m surrounded by mess, or the temperature is too high or low; if the wind is blowing my hair across my face; if there are too many ants crawling on the picnic table; if there is a strong smell of smoke or perfume or garbage; if I’m hungry or thirsty and I’m far from refreshment; if television is playing in the background, or loud conversations, or music is part of the environment; if there are any conditions that might affect me negatively, it is nearly impossible for me to focus.
Today’s prompt suggested that I try writing from a different location. But I don’t have one right now. That happens to be one of the more annoying aspects of my current circumstances.
I write from a couch, which also happens to be my bed. And sometimes I write at work, when I have the opportunity.
I enjoy nature. But a cold front has just moved into central Florida, and I’m not eager to go anywhere outside.
I don’t even have a clean table to work on. It’s not my house, and I’m not up to cleaning it right now.
I need a place of my own. I’m working on it. But I’ve been displaced for the past year due to a recent divorce.
I’ve never had a place of my own to write. I don’t know what that feels like. I’ve never been supported in my goal to write.