The Perfect Perch

A few years ago, I told a friend that if only I had a beautiful view out my window, then I could be a writer. I am sure it is a tale as old as time. Writers block kept in place by the need for “the right place” for inspiration, peace, creativity, words to come.

An ex gave me a copy of Michael Pollen’s A Place of My Own. Did he overhear my conversation with that friend? No chance. Could he feel my avoidance hovering over my skin like a force field that kept me from pursuing my dreams? Probably.

The book is a classic Michael Pollen - white man with fine intentions seeks to live out his values and share the journey with us all, a manual for our own pursuits. I didn’t finish the book but the TLDR stuck with me. He wanted to create a place for him, of him, to write and retreat.

The considerations were many. What would the view be? Where on the property would be a practical refuge? Materials, contractors, logistics.

I started to think of my own Perfect Perch.

It is happening slowly. A friend who is beginning a contracting business busted out an old barn door in the back of my garage and, after several weeks boarding the hole up with plywood as she perfected the levels, the frame- put in a patio door. Next, whenever that may be, will go in an interior wall to separate the back of the garage from the front. A smaller space I can heat and shut out the distractions of the tools I want to use in my garden, the bikes I could be riding, the other this-and-thats of the garage that could take me away.

In the meantime, here I am, writing anyway.

A place of one’s own is a privileged place to be. A fine goal in itself, but, as I am learning in this very moment, not the requirement I once said it was to just. fucking. write.