A Room With A View

At home, I have a view while I write. I tuck myself into our sitting room, affectionately called “the nook," content with glances out the wall of French doors to the world beyond. I have always loved that, but I did not fully realize its impact on me.

For many reasons, my writing stalled last month. Over this past week, I have come to see that environment was also a contributing factor to stagnation. The home we rented was lovely, but the view when sitting to write was the tops of palm trees. Exciting, perhaps, to a Canadian in the midst of a January freeze, but those palms swayed, battered by the cold driving rain, and the vista was a tad dismal. And, so was my writing.



My New Nook

The home we are currently renting is nestled in the hills of Austin, overlooking a lush canyon. I know it is a rich landscape because the house is framed with floor to ceiling windows and I get to gaze out at it from almost every room. It is an unusual home, adobe in design, it curves Mediterranean style, the ceilings reflecting the architecture of the ancient Greeks and Romans. The owner has an artistic flair and everywhere you look, you find something to admire, to think about, to dream on. Yet, she has also made it accessible and comfortable. I feel at home.

A Room With A View

I have done more work on Raven’s Path in one week than I did the entire month on South Padre Island. I curl up on my very own couch each morning while DH heads off to another nook. I write. I revise. I pull at my hair in frustration when a phrase does not fall into place. And, I look up. Trees blow in the wind, squirrels run across the stonework and I wonder about the lives of the people across the valley. I smile and get back to work.



When I write, it seems I need to see the world that waits for me. Or, perhaps, I need to be reminded that I am but one small part of it and to not take myself too seriously. Either way, I have discovered something very important. I need a room with a view. Preferably, a spectacular one. J