I used to have to leave my apartment to work on “The Wedding Guests.” I’d lock myself in my friend’s beach house where I had no cell phone reception, or I’d go to my Aunt Nancy’s and hide in the basement where there was no TV. I had to block out all distractions. I had no attention span whatsoever. But I’ve matured since then. (Sort of.) Now that I’m writing my second book, I don’t have to hide in remote locations. I can write in my bedroom, and the décor is all the motivation I need. On the wall in front of my writing spot (my very fluffy bed) is a painting of cotton candy, my favorite sweet. My friend’s ex-husband, a professional artist, made it for me as a housewarming present. They decided to divorce shortly after I hung the piece on my wall. I almost took it down after they split, but then I remembered that it’s my friend’s hand in the painting. She was the model, holding up the cone of cotton candy while he tried to get it down on canvas. There’s something inspiring about having the finished product nearby as I write. My friend’s hand looks so tough, so determined — just like she was in real life after the divorce. I see her strong grip and I think, “Keep moving.”
The other important piece in my sightline is my bed frame, which was my mom’s. Leslie Goldstein – my mother, my friend, and one of my best readers — passed away unexpectedly in May. I bring this up because after she died, I took her bed frame. It was relatively new and very pretty, so I moved it from her apartment to mine where it fit perfectly. My mom was alive long enough to read about half of my second book, and she loved it – perhaps more than “The Wedding Guests” (she said it was more romantic). When I’m under the covers and writing, I imagine that the bed frame is magical — that she’s holding me up and shouting, “Write more!” And that’s my best writing moment, by the way — the first time that I was able to work on the book after she died. I had been scared to write – I was scared of everything, really – but once I got settled in my room, everything felt okay. I just reminded myself that I was finishing the story that she loved so much. It’s probably bad feng shui to write where you sleep, but it’s working for me. I’m alone in my bedroom, but I’m surrounded the most encouraging people.
Novel Kicks is a blog for story tellers and book lovers.
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