September 2019: Office Space
~ Sadira Stone ~
Describe the space where you write. Is it an office? A coffee shop? Messy desk?
Sadira Stone said:
I’m blessed to have my own little writing cave, a small office painted celery green, with a stand/sit desk topper, overstuffed bookshelves (of course), and a comfy reading chair and footstool. Not much of a view, just the neighbor’s house. I’m an empty-nester, so Hubs is the only invader of my writing space and time. Fortunately, he’s very respectful and will hover in the doorway waiting for me to finish my sentence. When the story’s really cooking, I shut the door, which means “Do not disturb unless you’re bleeding or on fire.”
I’m afraid my office is on the messy side. I try to wrangle the ever-multiplying Post-it reminders into an organized To-Do list, but those little buggers keep multiplying like fruit flies. Right now I’ve got stuff for an upcoming author appearance stashed in every free nook—and it’s a little room, so there aren’t many nooks to spare.
A big believer in hard copies, I have a binder for each manuscript, plus others for printouts and notes from writing courses, conferences, etc. They take up a lot of space but will withstand any computer calamity.
I need silence to write, or at least very little noise. No music with lyrics—my brain cannot process words from two different sources. So—no coffee shop writing for me. Too bad, as my writing process relies heavily on caffeine.
On a perfect writing day, I roll out of bed around seven, pull on yoga pants and a comfy top, pour a cup of inspiration, and hit it. Up and down I go like a slow-motion Jack-in-the-box, standing until my lower back hurts, then sitting. I’m trying the Pomodoro method, and it seems to help. Apparently, research shows that people concentrate best in 25-minute increments. So I set my phone timer and crank out the words until the buzzer sounds. Then I walk or clean for at least five minutes before attacking the manuscript anew. I go on like this as long as my focus holds out, usually until early afternoon, when I finally hit the gym or take a walk.
Someday, when I’ve made millions from my multiple best-sellers (Hey, a girl can dream, can’t she?), I’ll have a big, clean, organized office with sooo much shelf space and a few of the sea. Until then, my little green writing cave suits me fine.
Runaway Love Story, Book 2 in the Book Nirvana Series
[Steamy Contemporary Romance]
She hates average…he’s as average as they come.
High school history teacher Doug Garvey is trying to enjoy his last few weeks of summer vacation, but receiving his final divorce decree hits him harder than expected. After a brief fling fizzles, he fears love just isn’t in the cards for him. If only he could find someone who’s real, someone interested in something beyond herself…maybe a new running partner who can keep up with his more carnal appetite. When sexy, straight-talking Laurel runs across his path, he dares to hope again.
He’s done with social-climbing posers…she’s ambitious and has big dreams.
Fired from an art gallery, Laurel Jepsen shelves her pursuit of an art career in San Francisco to help her beloved great aunt Maxie move into assisted living. While out on a morning run, she’s harassed by a group of teens until a tall, broad-shouldered hottie steps in, pretending to be her boyfriend with a kiss that makes her wish it were true. But she’s only passing through, not looking for a relationship.
Their fierce chemistry burns up the sheets—and the couch, the shower, the forest—but falling in love would ruin everything. Laurel can’t stay in Eugene, and he can’t leave. Doug’s only hope is to convince her the glittery life she’s after could blind her to the opportunities already in her path.
Available in Ebook: