Yeah, I write down in my basement, in a tight-fitting room that once was a closet. It’s lined in wainscoting that I thought was cedar…until I sniffed it: plain stained wood. The room has no window. Some might think it dungeon-like since I have to cross an unfinished basement and wend my way around pileups of hoarded boxes, paper goods, and rags to get to it. But I like the enclosure of my little writing room with fringed bookshelves and a faux leather chair.
Enough has been written about changes and trends in the publishing industry that I have no new insights to add to the discussion. But I will note that when, as a young writer, I fantasized about my someday success, I envisioned national book tours, appearances on the Tonight Show, gigs as a guest lecturer. I have savored small successes over the years but have had to drastically modify my earlier dream of being a writer. I still struggle with this, try out different rationales that make my many years of writing feel like an accomplishment, not a Sisyphean climb up a mountain called something like Publishers’ Peak.