Where is this all coming from? I’m not talking about the home of my thoughts, not that labyrinth, heavy with winding passages. Rather, where am I writing this from, Step into my office.

I was told it’s important for a writer to have a writing space, a place to sit and single mindlessly focus on bringing about a world of make believe. Some people escape to a place that’s very separate to their daily life. I’ve heard of writing rooms, rented spaces in building blocks, coffee shops and forgotten class rooms. I have a double room that serves me for the purposes of conjuring vivid dreams, and as a place to lay my head at night .

The room affords me the comforts that are expected from any room fitted for its purpose. I have my bed, tidily hugging the left most wall of the room, with a small bed side table ticked against it. The lazy white wash of the walls crowds around me, coating the ceiling and coursing up to where the window allows the world in.

I have learned to lose myself in this window frame, It’s changing tones affect my frame of mind accordingly. The crashing chorus of Crimson that the sun paints into the air dancing my mind into a creative flow. I sit myself up with my back against my head board, pull my laptop up to my lap, point my feet to the opening and drift from Window to window, the world and my world, picking at the inspiration wondering in. Sometimes the pace of a pen has the temperament needed to steady the feverish pace of my thoughts, in those moments I lay prone across my sheets and etch away at the pages.

I don’t always have the luxury of my bedroom to pen a phrase or two. I make use of the stage, the world around has pockets of peace that have aided me from time to time. I’ve joined the crowds in quiet cafes and hidden among the bubbling life of a local pub. However spontaneous the location for my next writing session might be, I intentionally seek that window, with my back against the wall and the world looking in, I delve into whatever mischief the pen requires for that moment.

It’s here that I chase my slumber, in pursuit of dreams I dare to stop and watch the fury of my mind bind it’s musings to paper so I can see them.

Welcome to my office, sanctuary of dreams.