Step One of my (loosely structured) strategy to reclaim my authorial identity was to create this site. Done. Successful. Even one step can be a big accomplishment, if it’s a step in the right direction.
Step Three is to actually write something. I’ll work on that later.
Step Two was to reclaim my writing space, and I took that step this evening. Behold: my “office” when I got home this afternoon.
Several months of persistent and omnipresent anxiety and depression robbed me of my writing space. I’m a notorious clutterbug, and when my mental health is less than optimal, the clutter consumes all. Anything without a place elsewhere in the apartment went straight to my writing desk – because, well, it’s not like I was actually using the desk to write.
My armchair in the living room (a monstrous, plush relic of the nineties, courtesy of my grandmother on my father’s side) is amazingly comfortable, but it’s not the sort of comfort that lends itself to productivity. It’s the sort of comfort that lends itself to Netflix and naps.
So, if I ever want to do this writing thing, I need my writing space.
Therefore, I cleaned. Behold: my office now.
And yes, my diploma is wearing a bow tie. It’s my new role model for professionalism.