desk satisfaction.

I should be editing.

Once when I was roaming the blogosphere I clicked through the posts on this one lady's writing blog and saw one post that I loved. It was a photograph of her desk, followed by a dissection of what was in the picture. For months I have intended to mimic this post, and today, as I procrastinate, it seems like the perfect opportunity.



This may seem inane to some readers, so feel free to move on. No offense taken.


See, this is where I live. The desk itself, of which you can see only the top, is the best gift I've ever been given. It was Mark's wedding gift to me. A white, antique writer's desk. Just what I could not have even manifested in my most perfect dreams. It is slightly tilted, with a sitting space that fits my legs, height and width, to perfection. The drawers stick, but I don't care. I love it.

Camouflaged, my little MacBook (her name is Dora) holds every word I have ever typed since college. Both manuscripts, my entire digital photograph library, my music (the last link, after my iPod was stolen out of my car in the driveway), a variety of "Favorite" tabs of blogs and writing resources I follow, and our budget. Dora and I have spent only God knows how many hours together in silence, and rambling.

The books are my go-tos. The favorites tab of my book collection. The complete works of e.e. cummings. Poet perfect. Stephen King's, Annie Dillard's and Anne Lamott's memoirs on writing, all of which have been of colossal importance to me in my pursuit of a career in the craft. East of Eden, Steinbeck's best, my favorite novel of all time including my favorite character of all time, Samuel Hamilton. The Oxford American Writer's Thesaurus, which has been a resource of great value as I tap my relatively shallow barrel of vocabulary trying to write with accuracy and clarity. A Poetry Handbook by Mary Oliver and Writing to Change the World by Mary Pipher.

They are held up by the most beautiful spinning globe bookends, a Christmas gift this year from Mark.

There is a small bud vase with a vine rooted in water, to link me to the outdoors. A photograph of Mark, with his Red Sox hat, old faithful, and a bit of Cannoli cream on his lip, smiling his winning grin with his tilted smile. My favorite picture of him, aside from one on our wedding day that hangs on the wall in the living room. Just in front of the photo is this quote, from EofE:

"I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is indestructable."

I love that quote, and I think I believe it.

There is also a photograph of my brother, Kyle, and me when we were kids--he was three or four, I was eight or nine. It's black and white, and we're sitting on this old red checkered sectional sofa surrounded by dozens of stuffed animals and we are laughing.

There is a little pink address book and stamps. Legal envelopes that I use to send out SASE's when I submit my manuscripts to agents. A box of thank-you notes yet to be written. Twenty-two cents. Bert's Bee's Medicated lip balm (because it's winter people). A list of agents, somewhat marked up, with dates and notes on submissions I have sent, and those I have yet to send, querying To Light a Thousand Windows. There is a candle, a paper weight, a Christmas card that says, "It was her opinion that true Merriment required good hot chocolate and extravagant amounts of tinsel." There is a copy of my query letter, an envelope of receipts from 2009 and 2010 (large purchases only) and a pencil sharpener, though I rarely if ever use pencils.

I think that's it, and above the desk is the picture of Emebet, the little girl we sponsor who was born on May 2nd, our wedding day, and lives in Ethiopia. I should have moved the Thesaurus so you could see her.

I considered tidying up a bit before writing this post, but decided not to. I am a writer and this is who I am, clutter and all.