There's No Place Like Home (Click Your Heels Together 3 Times): Inside Sioux's Inner Sanctum

       Everyone's writing space is different. Some writers prefer boring spots with unadorned walls to lessen the distractions. Because our house is so incredibly tiny, my space doubles as a spare bedroom. And since I don't like anything that's bland and boring, I've enjoyed filling the room with personal touches.

       And since most of you don't live in the St. Louis area, I thought I'd give you a quick tour of my writing space.

          This is a painting done by my father. He never did anything artistic until he was in the middle stages of Alzheimer's. He went to a day program once a week--the only break my mom got--and they sometimes had a guest painter come in and paint with the clients. I know he got a little help with it, but I cherish it. The colors remind me of Monet...

         The so-soft flannel quilt on the desk chair is important because it was made by a writer in my writing critique group--Lynn Obermoeller--and since it was made by a writer I admire, I think every stitch is infused with positive writing mojo. (Quilters believe in wrapping up in a quilt they've made before gifting it to someone, to fill it with peace and love. If I could only take writing as seriously as Lynn does... Perhaps the quilt will help?)  

        This is a framed print of a poem by Shay Simmons--written just for me. (It was a blog contest, and I won.) I adore the poem because it speaks of the power of writing. I treasure it so much, I found a special frame, decorated the border, and it hangs in a prominent spot.

        This is a stack of anthologies which I'm published in. The taller the tower represents--for me--the big mountain I still dream of climbing: a published novel.

       I bought this years ago at a craft fair. As soon as I saw it, it was love at first sight. It's made from an old oil drum and (if you can't tell from my horrid photographic skills) is a pig with wings. When pigs fly... that's when I'll snag a publishing deal. (I'm still working on getting it hung from the ceiling.)

          This is a framed check from my first paid writing gig. It was a whopping $10. The publisher probably laughed her butt off when I asked if they'd send me two checks. I wanted to frame one (I promised her I wouldn't cash it), but I ended up just making a color copy of the check. It was many years ago, and I still make mere tiny trickles of money from writing, but that framed check reminds me exactly when I first had the courage to submit...

         I'd show you the view out the window, but it ain't particularly pretty. A maple tree that has covered our yard with sweet gum balls. An old chain link fence. A shed that needs hosing off. I don't make a habit of staring out the window when I take a break from writing, but I do glance around me... and I'm inspired and comforted by what I see.

        What is your writing space like? What sentimental treasures do you surround yourself with? I'd love to hear about them...

  Sioux Roslawski is a middle-school teacher, a teacher-consultant for the Gateway Writing Project, a Chicken Soup for the Soul writer, an aspiring novelist, a wife, mother and grammy, along with a rescuer of dogs. In the time she has outside of her classroom she knits, serves on the board of Love a Golden Rescue, and dreams of a way she can lose weight and still eat chocolate. If you'd like to read more, check out Sioux's blog.