Good morning wordicorns and scribblers,
When the hubs and I moved to Portland, I wanted to write outside of our shoebox apartment. No, I needed to. A 450 square foot box couldn’t be my every day creative space, I decided. So I made a list of every tea and coffee shop in the city.
I had to whittle it down after that with my own specific needs. I crossed off places that only had benches or half-backed almost stool-like monstrosities, anywhere I couldn’t find a comfy chair or at least make one if I brought my cushions. I had to make sure I could take public transit there, as we didn’t have a car at the time. I also preferred not to take the bus, as it was more difficult to get my scooter on.
After so much trial and error, I understood why some authors choose one place to write a novel. You can vibe with a space as easily as you can clash with one, and if you find a place that fits, you don’t want to rock the boat.
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