My Element

It's a bit disconcerting to think about the fact that the desk in my room seems to have become the kryptonite to my writing creatively of late. The last 3 things I've written have been at locations other than said desk. As I type this right now, I am lying down on my bed to the right of that desk. I just can't quite figure out why.

Oh sure, the fact that my desk is covered in a mountain of mail, random papers, and some CDs among other things is the obvious scapegoat. I don't buy it though. I've penned some of my best work under much more wretched conditions at this very desk. However, the content and personal action items contained in this random paperwork might be a bit daunting. Maybe my desk is becoming too much of a handle business or face reality place. I sit there and I inevitably pick up the phone and start to make some sense of things like my finances (or lack thereof).

I called myself getting my so-called mojo back last week at Starbucks. There's something about that place that has historically made me write. I might not write the most coherent things but I write. Maybe I feel a kinship with the other writers (i know that...that's so cliche!) and coffee shop types that are there. The music is always good and despite all of the people coming and going in and out of the door, I manage to maintain focus. Perhaps it's a concentration thing. At home, being focus takes discipline the way shooting 1000 jumpshots in a gym by yourself does. You can shoot 675 and nobody will know but you. Being at Starbucks is like being in a noisy arena and heading to the free throw line with :02 on the clock and you're down by 1. You focus on that spot on the back of the rim, block out the crowd and calmly knock down the shots. I guess I'm not so coherent here either. Maybe I am. I'll read it again tomorrow to be sure.

But back to the matter at hand. My desk just doesn't seem to be "where the magic happens" anymore. For that matter, not much magic has happened anywhere lately. Just for the sake of science, I vow to clean that desk and make it functional again. Maybe that will allow me to get organized. If you had asked me last week, I would've probably given you some excuse about how being too organized will make my writing too methodical and less creative. That would be precisely the antithesis of what I aim to do. As they say, though, desperate times call for desperate measures.