September 2010
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Where do you write?

Do you write long hand or on a computer?

I was thinking about this the other day, and remembered a short piece of free prose that I wrote on the subject as part of a writing exercise ages ago.

Anyway, I thought I’d share it here and then pose the question to you, dear Reader.

So, have a read and then tell me: where do you write best? Do you prefer music or absolute silence? What materials do you need? Can you only write when inspiration strikes, or are you a disciplinarian who works their muse hard?

I’m looking forward to hearing all your writerly quirks!


I write where it’s light; in the sun’s bright rays or by the grainy glow of my bedside lamp. Under a duvet, or the bluest of skies. Under a cloud, though it’s harder that way.

I write with the lark and I write with the owl, and I write all alone as I watch the world slip by my window, perched upon the kitchen sink.

I write on the sofa, curled tight to protect my seedling words, or sometimes stretched on the floor with a smile on my lips when I know in the flow of my heart there is gold.

I can even write standing up, in the checkout line or waiting for the man at the bank to stamp his pad and call my number in turn.

On the bus I write longhand with the stub of a pencil, cursive cramping my fingers into claws, scratching words on the back of an envelope.

On the train I pour out my thoughts in a clatter of keys on the shiny black laptop that lives in my bag, next to my ticket and lipgloss and gum.

And sometimes in the library I write in a Moleskine pad, feeling the weight of the literati set, the force of tradition and all it implies.

I write, in short, where the writing is. Which is anywhere, nowhere and in between. But rarely, it seems, at my desk.

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