The Perfect Nook to Write a Book


I’m jotting and plotting and trying my best to pin down a routine. My goal has been to find some sweet little nest where I can roost for part of the day to write, uninterrupted. I began on the couch this afternoon but have progressed slowly but surely toward the bedroom. Nestled among eiderdown, blanket and warm wooly rugs,  I am getting words down on paper.

I am inspired by a website that showcases writers’ rooms. If you want some inspiration from those who have gone before you or from those who tread beside you, head on over to for a peek at some beautiful nooks to create books. Be warned – there are some scary places there, too. If you think your writing space is a mess…fear no longer.

So tell me…where is your favourite place to write?


6 thoughts on “The Perfect Nook to Write a Book

  1. Lynn, I’ll have to lend you my copy of Chris Casson Madden’s ‘A Room of Her Own’. It profiles a fairly extensive range of women and their favourite room/s. I also have another great book called ‘Writers’ Houses’ by Francesca Premoli-Droulers. I bought these books not long after my transplant and ‘Writers’ Houses’ is still as divine as when I first bought my copy.

    I can honestly say that I do enjoy my little writers nook. I’m surrounded by things I love and thrive on – books, photographs, a bouquet of freshly sharpened Lyra pencils and notes I have stuck on my wall.

    In saying that, packing my lappy and heading up to my Mum and Dad’s place in Mooloolaba is a beautiful place to be, both in body and spirit. So much so, it’s not hard to get distracted – drunk almost – on the ocean rolling in …

    Barcaldine is another. It is a place where I have done some of my best writing. It takes about a week to ‘acclimatise’ to the different noises and the silence, but when I feel settled, the words pour out and the sense of achievement when I return to the city is out of this world.

    I’m planning on heading down to Tasmania for about a month in September where I’m planning to hibernate with my Mac, my books and some solitude. Then I’ll catch the Spirit of the Outback out to Barcy (Barcaldine for any readers who are unsure of where Barcy is) in October for more solitude, where I will return home with at least three quarters of a first draft of ‘Jet’s Lore’ as well as adding more flesh to my memoir, my novella (which is set in 1973 outback Queensland) and my verse novel. There is a plethora of fodder at ‘Cumberland’ (the cattle station I visit)

    I think the closerto nature I am, the more powerful and tactile my writing is. I hope that answers your question 🙂

    Love and light,
    Carls xoxo

    • All your nooks sound beautiful. And I am totally jealous of your Tassie trip. I love Tasmania. I migrate from the lounge to the desk to the bedroom to the deck, especially during winter when it is sun-drenched all morning. Strangely, I always write like a woman possessed, in the local library – regardless of screaming toddlers and gabbing book lovers. My dream is to build a room with floor to ceiling book shelves, a not too big desk with a big comfy writing couch and an old but character filled coffee table beside it, which will house all my “on the go” books I am reading. One day…

  2. I’m jealous of you both, Carls and Lynn! I write in chaos at a desk in one corner of our huge lounge-dining room. There’s a puppy chewing a rusty bolt at my feet, a 91 year old cat moulting in the sun on the back verandah, kids wandering through asking what we’re doing today. On my desk is the sole silver snakeskin sandal that survived yesterday’s puppy attack, two socks still wet from his chops, cold coffee, a pink headband, sunscreen and a foot-high jumble of paperwork waiting to be done. But the funny thing is, it doesn’t bother me at all. I’m blind to the mess, deaf to the requests of my family when I’m writing. What’s going on? Am I becoming a man????

    • Chris, this was hilarious. Presently, I have a nut chewing dog at my feet who has been munching all morning on this thing he found in the garden. He has exhausted himself and is now snoring full throttle. Your desk sounds a bit like my entire house right now. Mixed with the chaos of packing boxes and unwanted items of days gone by. I am in limbo until I go up to Bundy and decide when I will move there. All hinges on a job at this point. So it’s a waiting game and I am learning to navigate around the chaos. Fear not about becoming a man. If you WERE a man – you probably wouldn’t have picked up the soggy socks… Kiss that little fella’s black rubbery nose for me XOX

  3. Hello Lynn…

    I’m with Carly-Jay…I have the book ‘Writers Houses’, plus another book…a slim volume, profiling a goodly number of writers on their fave writing places. I wish I could remember the title! There is a great photo of each author in their writing space, and a little precis from each on the writing process. It stretches from Tennessee Williams, Truman Capote, right up to Vonnegut and Updike before they died.

    As for my place? I like a second hand Ikea chair in the living room, surrounded by books, reference materials, films etc.

    Of course, I am always scribbling on old shopping dockets, napkins, babies bibs, the tops of old bald men’s heads…whenever I get a thought, I just have to jot that sucker down! You might be the same yrself!

    A writer should be able to write anywhere, but we are talking the ideal spot, aren’t we.

    Oh, and I absolutely, positively cannot have music! None, not even classical! Funny, eh? Apparently Stephen King writes to AC/DC, but then his books to me always read like they were written by AC/DC, so…

    Enough. I like it here. Blog on regardless…


  4. Thanks for stopping by, JWA. I’m the same – can’t write at all unless I have complete quiet. There is major construction going on down the road – jack hammers and trucks with giant reversing lights that beep giant beeps from 0700 until long after I can physically stand it. It is driving me mad.

    I can pretty much write anywhere and on anything. Have been known to jot down major plot points in toilet breaks. And like you, (power to the comma) have recycled napkins and shopping dockets for the greater good of story.

    I did a ten day silent meditation retreat some years back. No music, no TV, no speaking, no reading, no eye contact, no dirty thoughts and saddest of all – no writing. The no writing for ten days was the hardest thing to overcome. My head buzzed with creation and I had no medium to channel the noise to. What I did learn was that all that my creativity bubbles away beneath that blanket of chaos I call “living”. When I shut out the living and sit in silence, the gates open to a greater place in my head.

    In all honesty that is my best place to write in.

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