Whether or not it matters where you write, I can’t say for sure. But for me, I love a quiet space with lots of light.
A cup of coffee or tea close to hand is very important.
An open window in the summer is welcome. So is a soft breeze occasionally sneaking in to kiss my cheek or ruffle my page.
I write best in daylight, although right now the warm glow of a lamp illuminates my way across the keyboard.
Sometimes it’s nice to skim a Pilot G-2 fine point pen across the blue lines of a college ruled spiral notebook, the kind I just bought ten of (for only one dollar).
Other times, I need to hear the solid whispery click of the keys on my MacBook pro, because they’re the only thing fast enough to keep up with the hurly burly of my thoughts.
Yesterday I worked for a while in the writing space at my new house. My desk is on the second floor, in the corner between two windows overlooking the street. One of them cranks open, almost into the branches of a huge oak tree that shades the room just enough.
It was bright, and quiet, with no distractions other than some happy birdsong and the whish-ing sound of a biker riding past. Before I knew it, two hours had gone by.
So it seems this writing space will do very nicely.
Sweet.