Archive for February, 2013

So I have this recurring fantasy.

Said fantasy does not include piles of money or Channing Tatum, although I may exercise my option for that fantasy on another day.

No, said fantasy is more in keeping with the rich interior life of Yours Truly, The Closet Hermit.  I admit it, I prefer my own company probably just a little too much.  Particularly when the weather is cold.  I’m not a lot of company these days.

But I digress.  Central to my fantasy is this:


This, dear friends, is a caretaker’s cottage, located on an estate just one street over from my home.  The cottage is situated in an orchard well beyond the main house, and it is empty, empty, empty.

I don’t know when the last humans occupied it.  I’m pretty sure it’s occupied by a host of non-human creatures, mice and snakes and such.  And I’m pretty sure the rooms are tiny and unkempt, and probably full of junk.  The man who owns the estate is something of a collector.

I walk my dog along the lane that skirts the edge of the estate (such a grand term for it, when really it’s been reduced over the years to a bit acreage and a cluster of buildings) and I allow myself the freedom to fantasize about that little cottage.  I daydream about what it would be like to have it as a workspace.  I visualize a table in the sunshine, in front of a window, where I could set up my computer and write the next Great American Novel.  I visualize an easel set up where I would be able to get back to painting.  I visualize a table and shelves where I could stash my crafting stuff.

In short, I fantasize about having a little space all to myself, where all my stuff could exist peacefully in the chaotic format it tends to assume, and no one would touch anything and everything would be right where I left it.

I suppose most women, if they are wives and mothers, have similar fantasies.  Just to have a space for themselves that no one can intrude upon.  For me, the best part about it would be the absence of distraction that is endemic to writing, which I am beginning to miss.  (Not that I don’t write every day I’m at work… there’s only so much tech talk you can research and regurgitate before you start feeling a little cold about it.)  I haven’t felt this way about my writing in a long time and I’m a little afraid of it but at the same time a little excited about it too.  It’s been a long, long time since I felt that slow burn.  I haven’t had an idea hit me yet, but when I do I hope it’s a good one.

— Mox

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