Filed under: Fun Stuff
Take a peek inside the spaces where some of today's authors write, ponder, and procrastinate. This week: Die Buying author Laura DiSilverio's office, which has and continues to inspire her as a writer.When I retired from the Air Force in 2004 determined to write and publish novels, my lovely husband surprised me with a desk and bookshelves to convert a small bedroom into my private office. He called it an investment in his future as "a man of leisure living off his wife's earnings." Seven years into my writing career, he still has to put in a 40+ hour work week with the Defense Intelligence Agency, but he has a much more fulfilled wife which, he says, makes it all worthwhile. (See why I married him?)
I have nothing but respect for writers who can practice their craft in stray slices of time stolen in vans during kids' lacrosse practices or in doctors' waiting rooms, or hiding in a restroom stall with a laptop while they're supposed to be working. I'm not one of them. Especially when I'm drafting, I need a serene environment: no soap opera or Judge Judy in the background, no Mozart concerto or Queen blaring from the stereo, no quarreling offspring in the hall.
Courtesy of author
Courtesy of author
So, my office is perfect, at least when school is in session. On the second floor of our Colorado Springs home, it offers a view of Pikes Peak most of the year and of peacefully swaying aspen and cottonwood limbs during the summer. Yellow walls add a bit of wake-me-up color, no matter how gray the day may be outside. Books abound. I have a full shelf of writing reference books and many, many shelves of books that have meant something to me or inspired me in one way or another.
A few mementoes of my Air Force career hang behind me (apropos, no?). The other walls display my girls' artistic efforts attached with magnets-Did you know you can buy magnetic paint to go under regular wall paint?-and artwork that my husband and I have purchased. On our first anniversary, we decided to buy a piece of art together each year, rather than gift each other with lingerie or easily broken gadgets, and we've kept to that tradition. I have two of our anniversary pieces hanging over my desk where they remind me of special times with my hubby.
On my desk, photos of my family cheer me on. Notebooks with scribblings on works in progress, or manuscripts awaiting revising or editing clutter my desk more than I like, but I live with it. One of the most important items, a 5x7 framed photo of a sailboat from one of those rah-rah motivational posters catalogs says, "Risk: You cannot discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore." That philosophy took me to Bangkok as a young lieutenant to help with the search for POWs still missing from the Vietnam conflict, goaded me to interview for a job creating and editing a safety magazine, and sustained me as I made the transition from a military career that offered a healthy paycheck and plenty of recognition, to a writer's life of uncertain remuneration-I'm still waiting for the day when my hourly wage has a figure to the left of the decimal-buckets of rejection, and little extrinsic reward. I'm immensely grateful for all those experiences.
When I'm not drafting a new novel, when I'm revising, or copy-editing, I move my base of operations. I don't know why. Somehow, a change of scenery helps. When the weather's nice, I take the hard copy manuscript and a pen outside on the deck so I can enjoy the fuchsia, marigolds and daisies and be buzzed by hummingbirds seeking nectar. On rarer occasions, I feel the need for a livelier scene to stimulate my creativity, so I head for my local Panera and set up camp for a morning or two with a cup of tea. Many a character description has come from unwary latte swillers with a distinctive chin, gesture, or gait.
One final word about what my office gives me. It has, from the get-go, made me feel like a professional writer. Before my first $25 sale of a short essay to an ezine, before my first three-book contract, back when people assumed I could bake cookies for the first grade Halloween party/chaperone a field trip/babysit/shuttle them to the airport because I was "only" a writer, I knew I was a professional. I had an office of my own, and that conferred a certain gravitas, at least in my own mind. (Let me hasten to add that I don't mean to imply that any writer without the luxury of an office isn't professional; I'm saying that it boosted my self-confidence.) Furniture, computer, desk chair-a couple thou. World beater attitude-priceless.
Who knows? Maybe if I spend enough time in my office my husband will get to be the golfing, chess playing man of leisure he set out to become when he invested in where I write.
Portrait: Carly Mitchell
Laura DiSilverio spent twenty years as an Air Force intelligence officer before retiring in Colorado with her husband, two daughters, and a dog. Die Buying, the first in her Mall Cop Mystery series, released this month, and profits from the book sales are donated to the Wounded Warrior Project. For more information, please visit: www.lauradisilverio.com.