Things In My Room
I have to admit; posting on a daily basis is causing me to reach for topics that relate to my initial concept of writing and reading related blogs. It’s not the easiest thing to come up with, especially since I’m not as interested in following the media for inspiration as I am simply letting the things around me inspire my ideas.
With that in mind, I have to say the picture of me in this room would make for at least a simple scene in a story. Setting it up for something exciting or dreary would be easy enough. I’m going to be silly today and write my post with a small writing exercise based on the things in my room.
The ticking of the wooden clock above the desk is too low to hear in the midst of murmuring technology. A laptop set in front of a larger monitor is silent but for the tapping of nails across the keys. To the right, two computers battle to see which can be loudest; the hum is soothing and familiar.
At the left, the door opens to the hallway, cream-colored carpet and stark white walls empty of decoration but for the circular smoke detector with its unblinking, red light and the small picture in a cherry wood frame. Inside the room, the carpet shifts to blue with no transition while the walls remain white.
The light-colored wooden desk sits awkwardly against the wall. It seems skeletal despite being covered with the requisite items of necessity. Along the top lie a row of similar books with uniform sizes and titles. Their colorful patterns brightening up the area. Atop the books perch two figures: a stuffed Snoopy from the Peanuts gang that once held a miniature Whitman’s chocolate box, and a rather bug-eyed, bobble-headed Darth Vader complete with red lightsaber and extending arm.
Along the front of the books lie various odds an ends. A planter converted into a pincushion has a variety of colorful pins adorning her pink ‘nightcap’ with her flowing gray curls falling out from underneath. She hides behind a yellow index card that manages to obstruct the view of a hand-painted blue glass. More index cards hide the jars of coins stemming out from this vision while a little further along the shelf sits a tiny gong.
If messy eccentricity were enough to make an author, the combination of merely the few books and other trinkets on the shelf would condemn the woman sitting in front of the laptop, nails tapping away in quick succession as the world passes her by.
Aside from the fact that wasn’t done very well and I only paused to change one word after finishing, I’m just going to leave it as is. It’s not really enough to draw you in in my opinion, but at the very least, there’s enough offered up from the items on my shelf to make you potentially wonder what books I’ve stored there, why I have the figures I do, and what else might be on my desk.
For anyone who cares to know, if I continued with this, I might write about the Coca-Cola tin filled with notes from friends, the presence of Democratic donkey keychain, the Nebraska Book Company pink highlighter complete with bright grinning face, and the gigantic jawbreaker that cost $0.95 and is reminiscent of childhood lollipops.
There’s a plethora of things just on my desk I could probably write about if I were inclined to do so. I think that’s one of the advantages of being a writer: we see stories where others see objects. In my world, and not my fantasy one at that, everything has a history: from the Snoopy doll to the tin of notes on my desk. It’s just a matter of matching the history to a plot that gives you something worth writing about.
Thoughts? Comments? Snide remarks? Critiques on my writing? Feel free to leave them here.