My creative atmosphere?

Heh. Well . . . there’s the creative atmosphere that I *aspire* to, and then the creative atmosphere that I usually have: a messy office full of color, art objects, plush stuffed monsters, and shelves overflowing with books. My desk overflows with stacks of papers, usually research or manuscript pages or mail that I haven’t gotten around to dealing with yet. More books litter the surface of the desk, too.

I have a crazy modern art rug that is usually covered with my two snoring greyhounds. I have photos of family and friends around. There are generally two coffee cups: yesterday’s and today’s. And there are matches to light a fire under my butt. (Okay, just kidding about that part.)

I’ve started turning on a Sirius jazz station in the other room lately. This gives me enough sound to tickle my brain but not enough that it’s distracting. I cannot listen to lyrics or television while I write—other people’s words get in the way of producing my own.

Often I’ve started cooking in the morning before sitting down to write. The crockpot is a wonderful thing for an author on deadline, pretty much the only way to eat healthy besides salad, or having a husband who’s a chef.

And behind the laundry room door (which is right next to my office) I’m, well, doing laundry as I write. Three to five pages, then I get up and transfer wet clothes to dryer or fold the load from the dryer after dumping it on the couch.

I *aspire* to a sparkling clean, orderly office where everything is filed properly and the décor is just right. But that’s a big laugh. That occurs only after I’ve met a deadline and can no longer stand the chaos. I’m great at setting up organizational systems, but not so great at maintaining them.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: what I really need is a wife. LOL. You know, someone to run all the errands and keep things clean and make sure that I’m where I’m supposed to be on a given day and doing what I’m supposed to do. Unfortunately, I *am* a wife . . . and I’m supposed to do all of that for Mr. Kendall (c’mon, women’s lib just hasn’t changed things all that much in terms of daily household realities) as well as for myself.

Anyway. So what I aspire to is creativity candles and soft music and a lovely, clean, orderly office and being able to write without a sense of panic that the deadline is around the corner . . . and then there’s Real Life! I operate out of the mess and under a great deal of pressure. What about you?

Happy Thursday, Karen

p.s. Happy Birthday, Amy!!!