(seated at desk, with cat and the Summer 2013 copy of NH WRITER, containing my feature article, "Dream On!")

Long ago, in a humorless house, I began to dream big dreams about bases on the moon and adventures far across the galaxy (and in the Inner Limits of my own backyard).  I dreamed about a 'Writing Room', where I would be surrounded by shelves filled with books, favorite artwork, and beloved family relics -- talismans, as I've since come to think of them.  That room, as imagined, was made reality in our first home, Blueberry Corners (a house based upon an enchanted cottage in the woods, from a novel I wrote when I was eighteen...a very long time ago!).  It emerged again in our next home, and the apartment we rented until March 2, 2013.  But until our arrival at the grand old lady in the White Mountains we purchased earlier this year, my home office always seemed a work-in-progress.  Not so now.  I have landed in my dream home, with its vast, ideal Writing Room.  Even in that far-ago time, I could not have dreamed of the inspiring work space I now enter daily, coffee cup in hand, Muse leaning over my shoulder.

The name on the door says it all.  "Writer" is one of the most powerful sobriquets a human being can claim.  The nameplate on the door was a gift from friends way-back-when, and while it has graced previous Writing Rooms, I never glued it in place.  I did so here.

We love bright colors, and after almost two years of builder beige and white walls, one of the first projects in our new home was to pull out the color wheel.  The cheerful, beachy-blue on the walls of my new home office is an homage to the bedroom in the house where I grew up -- and perfect for setting a happy and welcoming tone.   From the day I officially moved into my new Writing Room, it and I have enjoyed something of a renaissance.  Or a honeymoon.

The cabinet at left contains several thousand contributor copies -- mostly print magazines and binders filled with digital publications bearing my byline.  The comic book series I wrote for and some print anthologies share space behind the glass. The antique bronze horses are among the priceless family talismans that infuse the space with positive energy -- they occupy a mythological space in my formative years, as do my stuffed animals, many of which were crafted by my grandmother.  The book clock on top of the cabinet was a gift from three of the lovely ladies in my beloved Wednesday night writers' group.

The floor in this room is an antique knotty pine.  Another strange coincidence in that the same boyhood home with the blue bedroom walls (the predecessor to the miserable house of my teen years, when writing saved me) boasted knotty pine walls in the main part of the house.  When I was young, I would gaze into the knots, see faces, and my imagination wandered.  Four decades later, it hasn't ceased meandering.

At right, a section of the 'Muse Wall' -- autographs and photos of the many celebrities I've interacted with in my professional writing career.  Behind sliding glass doors and in various drawers and cubbies are my books, novels, collections, and anthologies containing my short fiction.  One drawer contains copies of my TV work, on VHS and DVD.







The Muse Wall.

















An old telephone table, re-purposed to become home for the new printer, adds to the ease and functionality of the perfect literary Command Center.



















The wall above my filing cabinets is covered with awards and mementos of my writing career.  Over the card catalog of as-yet-unwritten story ideas (which howl at me in the night to complete them!) is my letter of recommendation from Star Trek Voyager Creator and Executive Producer Jeri Taylor.








More of my favorite things -- press kits, almost a hundred press passes from events I covered, business cards, fountain pens, and objects that add to the ambiance of a creative destination that has seen an upsurge of energy and joy for writing since we landed in our beautiful new home, Xanadu.  One of our big house rules has always been to edit out anything that doesn't make us happy, anything we don't need or, most important of all, love.  And nowhere in Xanadu is this more apparent than my Writing Room where, in three short months, I have seen over twenty short stories, a novella, and a book accepted; where my pen has moved across the page and my fingers over the keyboard nonstop. Where new ideas and old get completed, and the dreams I dream are bigger and bolder than I thought possible.

To quote the movie from which our house earned her name, and my career sprung on a tempestuous August Saturday night in the summer of 1980, "Aah, inspiration...sounds perfect!"

I hope this tour of my Writing Room inspires you to keep creating!

To me, my physical work space has always been of equal importance as the cerebral.  When I was fifteen and first starting out, getting my writer legs, I envisioned living in a New York loft with lots of brick; that I'd be bald, fat, wear sweaters with elbow pads, drive a powder-blue Mercedes (in NYC?), and that I would have the most-magnificent dedicated writing room.  Well, I wish the rest of my hair would fall out (I'm part Lebanese, no hope there), and my stomach has plenty of hang.  I don't wear sweaters with elbow pads or drive a Mercedes, powder blue or otherwise, or live in New York City.  I do, however, have a rocking writing room, where my Muse loves to snog me without mercy.  It's a fairly inspired work space, with a few basic rules: there's nothing in there that I don't love (and spillover from other parts of the house is not permitted), I keep it clean and organized, file once a week, and always leave it ready at the end of the day to welcome me in there the following morning.  So far, so good.


My desk is the old kitchen table we dined at growing up.  One morning when I was fifteen, I mentioned to my lovely mother that I needed to have a desk in my room.  When I returned home from school that afternoon, she had set up the table, which had been collecting dust in the cellar, along with a chair and a catch all full of pens.  I still write on this table and hopefully always will.  Its scratched top bears stains from my fountain pens and red ink editing markers, some of them dating back to 1980.  Behind the desk is my Muse Wall -- with autographed photos of the many childhood icons I've had the privilege of interviewing, meeting, and becoming friends with as an adult.  Lovely new rug -- reminds me of van Gough's "The Starry Night" painting.



View of my desk, with the ancient card catalog box containing my as-yet-unwritten ideas on notecards (a brilliant idea from my brilliant grandmother, Rachel, who used to write for Highlights for Children, and who gave up a promising writing career to care for my grandfather, Wallace).  Across is the white shelf unit filled with press kits, press trinkets, office supplies, and my retired fountain pens.



One of this year's many birthday gifts -- an antique Khroener hardwood credenza and shelves.  My new 'archives' contain all of my published work and contributor copies, some 4,000 in all.  The cabinet is filled top to bottom with magazines and newspapers my work has been featured in, as are the three drawers and sliding shelf on the right.  The top drawer contains my two episodes of Star Trek: Voyager and the unsold HGTV pilot I wrote, filmed on the island of Nantucket.  The ancient sailing ship on top was carved by hand from scraps of driftwood by my Grampa Wally's Uncle Angus in Nova Scotia and had run aground on the rocks of my family's laundry room, until I rescued it.  It's had a place of honor in my writing room since.



A view of my filing cabinets, another birthday present, purchased from one of the strangest places I've ever visited - a used office supply store in Jaffrey, New Hampshire.  You take a turn at the birch tree, follow the dirt path over the babbling brook, bank right at the gray squirrel...  Those cabinets contain all of my longhand drafts, my contracts and acceptance letters, notebooks, etc., all of it neatly filed and accessible.  Writing awards I've won and documents-to-be-filed on top.


Another view of the Muse Wall.  Muse lights lit behind my insanely comfortable ergonomic office chair, which is now in its 11th season of providing comfort to my over-inflated backside while I write.



Aaah, Xanadu, the movie that made me realize how much I wanted to be a writer, heart and soul.  In September of 1999, I had the pleasure of seeing Olivia Newton-John perform in Boston.  She opened with the movie's anthem.  I was writing in my seat at the time when she walked onto the stage in a surge of energy and music -- and I didn't sit once for the next two hours.  This is an original movie poster from 1980.  I own one of the film's props, a tiny button worn by one of the dancers in the finale.  Writing in this room feels like being in Xanadu.



The shelves.



Finally, my Waterford lamp, a recent edition -- because you can never have enough decent lighting in your creative space.

I hope you enjoyed this tour of my Writing Room.  May it inspire you to create an uplifting writing environment of your own.  Back to the Muse and, as always, keep creating!