My preferred writing environment is my room.
As I type I’m curled up under a blanket, and to take the chill out of the air I’ve got a heater going. Music is a must-have, as I like when the words and music thread through my consciousness. Sometimes a particularly sad instrument or a poignant lyric will trigger a new idea or thought and send the writing on a new path.
The music is very low, though I have keen hearing: the volume bar is at the lowest end and I still consider it loud. Were it any louder I’d be cringing away and grappling for my earphones. If I’m not at home I can make do in a library, tucked into a little desk corner: at the university library the desks are arranged in formations of four, and there’s a low wall in front and to the side to separate one student’s work from another. In a library though, I’m more self-conscious, aware that anyone else walking past could see me writing something that isn’t related to coursework.
At home I’m myself, knowing that no-one can or will see what I’m doing unless I specifically show them. This means that I’m more unrestrained, and if I’m writing by hand I notice a difference. At university my handwriting is slow and deliberate, paced to look like a student doing academic stuff. At home my handwriting is wild and loopy, scrawly and messy, unrestrained and uncaring.
Too much noise sets me off: if I go into a cafe I need at least one earphone in to maintain calm in such a chatty environment, and too much quiet leaves me listless and uninspired. Ideally I can have music filtering through speakers, not earphones, but earphones seal the music inside my head as opposed to leaving it wildly in the open. I have tabs open on Google, flicking through a story here and the news there and YouTube.
Right now I’m writing from my room, curled up quite contently with some popcorn and music, and this is familiar to me. I’ve been here, in this state of being, before. My poem journal is within arms’ reach; pen and paper are not much further away. I’ve got something to drink and my phone is charging. I imagine if I could teleport anywhere in the world – New York, London, France – I could drop into a situation much like this and still produce something I like.
My best environment for writing is a home environment.