Excuses, not words.

I was running out of excuses as to why I had no more words written in my book despite the passing days and weeks.

My old corporate home office (office/craft room/junk room/damn messy scary room where you kept the door closed and walk past it every day in dread — that type of room). So, when I was asked why I was not using my time to work on my book, you guessed it. I blamed ‘the room,’ ‘the unusable space,’ ‘the clutter monster’.

Best friend to the rescue. Everything was taken out, sorted and repositioned in a completely different configuration all in one day. I had a sideboard cupboard where I stored (others like to use the word ‘hoarded’) all writing pads, books, paper, journals, and new & used diaries. They were piled high like a princess trapped in a book tower fortress, unable to escape (sounds like my kind of fairy tale!) until all was arranged.

My other half still works in a corporate role, which requires him to work from home in an office. Since I quit my job to pursue my love for writing, he has stated he preferred the kitchen table.

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Upon the transformation of the office, a new plant goes a long way to making it pretty and feeling homely! I now no longer sit in a dark corner facing the wall. I sit looking out over the field, farmland and moorland.