Someone asked me to describe the perfect writing scene where I’d be happily puttering away. Somehow the conversation was twisted around to what time period it’d be set in and I ended up with an imagined scene that really isn’t practical at all.
Well, technically speaking anyway.
Lend me your imagination for a moment and I’ll show you.
Follow me all the way to a busy street and a two-story stone bookstore. It’s a cozy bookstore, nice and toasty inside, they recycle (there’s blue recyclable trash cans near the front of the store) and a hot water station where you have a help-yourself-cafe.
Interesting paintings cover the walls and there isn’t a clock to be seen anywhere. There might be music, but the perfect level of noise resides within this little bookstore. You can hear people talking, snippets of their conversation drift over and tickle your ears. The scent of a strong, earl grey tea is wafting beneath your nose and suddenly, you have the urge to pour yourself a cup and find a seat in the corner somewhere with a really good view.
You find a nice, tough-looking ceramic mug, it’s got a good weight and a good size to it. You fill the cup to the brim–black, no creamer–and suddenly, a stairwell catches your eye. It’s like a corkscrew, from the top of the ceiling and it’s made of lovely dark wood and black metal. The sudden urge that compels you to walk forward and up those stairs is something you don’t want to ignore.
Climbing that amazing staircase, you find yourself in a different world–almost. You have made it to the top, without spilling a single drop of your Earl Grey and you’ve stepped from cozy bookstore into perfect city loft. The walls seem to be natural stone and there’s one of those tall waterfall-rock-boards on your left. Soft lighting illuminates a hallway with a thick, shaggy entry mat in a rich, green shade. Wandering further into the loft, you see a wide window and a mahogany desk.
In a corner, to the right of the window, is a giant moonchair, (You know, the real ones, with the straw basket and the giant cushion that’s oh-so-wonderful). The tiny endtable beside it, is holding a brand-new laptop and a tray of your favorite crumpets. (Well, rusks, I prefer rusks over crumpets, but nevermind, I’m borrowing your imagination here). Take a deep breath and keep walking into the room.
See a wall of bookshelves so impressive, you start to wonder whether it is the stockroom for the bookstore, before you realize that there is someone sitting inside that moon chair. The person has positioned this lovely laptop in their lap and already, their fingers are flying over the keyboard. You can hear a steady, clicking-clacking sort of noise as the keys are pressed.
And then you remember. It sounds like a typewriter.
So you set your cup of Earl Grey on the end table and stand where you can see over the shoulder of this mysterious person.
And then you ask your muse how much progress they’ve made.
^_^
Now wasn’t that a nice snippet of scenery to wander through? No? Oh, fine then. I’ll give you a picture.
You’ll have to imagine the moonchair and endtable though. ^_^
G’night!
