Putting the question of money aside for the moment – ‘enough’ is different for everyone – I’ve found that writing does require space to think and create. And creating it can sometimes mean thinking laterally.
For five years my writing space was in a glorified hallway and the passing traffic didn’t hesitate to stop, have a chat, and ask for some of my time. My focus was shattered. I tried ignoring, I tried glowering, I tried everything short of physical violence. There would be a brief period of smiles, nods, and careful tiptoeing around me (can tiptoeing be sarcastic? Passive aggressive? I feel it can be!). Then behaviours would revert to baseline.
Beside myself, I was ready to give up and then a friend of mine, and master coach, Leah Badetscher suggested typing a sign to the back of my chair when I didn’t want to be disturbed.
Miraculously, it worked! I don’t know how, but it did. I’d hear the thudding of feet approaching, a hesitation, a sigh, and then retreating footsteps.
But I had a space of my own.
Another way of problem solving
When the Morton Bay fig trees are lit up like this at dusk, it makes me think of Lothlórien, the fairest realm of the Silvan Elves remaining in Middle Earth (Lord of the Rings).
Brisbane is full of Morton Bay figs. These spectacular trees don’t rely on anyone else to provide their support system. Instead, they send down shoots from their branches. These shoots root and become full tree trunks thus supporting the primary tree’s relentless quest for reach and height. One core tree can become a forest all by itself.
