Every author has their own special place to write. I thought I'd share mine with you. For me, I like an office in my home, that's tidy, and sparsely decorated with a few things that hold meaning to me.
The rocking chair is very special, a 1970 some-year that my father rocked me in as a baby and I've rocked both my children in it after they were born. It's gotten a bit beat up, or maybe just well travelled, after being close to fifty years old, but, I'm hoping I'll get to pass it down to either my daughter or son one day. Resting in the corner is my first violin; I started playing when I was eight years old, and it still scratches out an okay tune when I pick it up now and then out of nostalgia. There is my favourite cap I got while adventuring in New Zealand. It was unique, from a nice little hat shop on the west coast of North Island and has an asymmetrical design that is really appealing. Beside that lays the remaining section of the staff I used to hike up Mount Fuji one long, cold, July night. Burnt into the wood are elevations from checkpoints along the way until finally the summit, where I watched the sunrise at 4:30am on a cloudless morning from 3,776m (12,388 ft).
Of course I have a few books on my shelves. Some titles are The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, 1953 edition, A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula LeGuin, 1976 edition, Lin Carter's Hurok of the Stone Age, 1981, to name a few. I used to keep more, but found after moving a few times, carting a couple thousand books around wasn't really worth it, so I only kept those that I really enjoy and want to revisit time and again. And of course, my Oxford Canadian Dictionary. Up until Dictionary.com, it was my go to guide for English wordage; it has masking tape holding it together along the spine I used it so often.
On my desk, which is really just a simple pine table I got from Ikea, sits my MacBook Pro, scribbles from thoughts I had while working, and a few Batman statues as I'm fond of the character.
This is where I write.