Location Location Location

I haven't written yet today. 

This morning, I sat on the porch with my mother for coffee and breakfast.  Couldn't write there.

So I went downstairs.  But my dad was blasting his music, and the whole house was bouncing.  He tends to make a lot of noise, and I love silence-- so I bought earplugs.  But they don't work, and I couldn't write.

This afternoon, I was driving all over Christandom trying to make some money.  Couldn't write in the car, either.  I've since dumped that job because the Pros (a tiny bit of money) no longer outweigh the Cons (time suck that leaves me too tired to write).

I'm going to write now.  With my lapdesk, in my living room, in my big comfy red chair.  Or at my dining room table, with the screen door open.  Or in my nook with the metal table and the rocking chair and lamp, though that's more of a winter spot.

The important thing:

My writing place must be silent, and I must be utterly alone.