So there’s a room in my house called The Woman Den (name inspired by my Colombian friend). Here in the space, where my books and writing utensils and desk lie, I was supposed to be struck by creative thoughts and let my writings flow onto the page.
Over the course of almost 7 months, the room, like so many rooms before it, slowly became a heap of unnavigable crap. It was a clustered, claustrophobic mess that I could barely breathe in.
But this week, I Goodwilled a desk and a small bookcase and created a usable room. A room in which I can actually see the floor. A room in which I can sit and write. A safe space. MY space.
Life is good.