Since Strikethru threw down the gauntlet and asked us to dream up our own writing shacks,I thought I\’d play along. This was easy, because I picked out this Dream Shack a few weeks ago while visiting Eureka Springs, AR and very nearly not returning.
So it\’s not a shack, actually, but it is for sale and it called to me distinctly every time I rode down the mountain to go into or out of town. This little house tugged at me, I tell you.
I know the conversation about writing shacks began with the whole back-to-basics, typewriter-on-a-table philosophy, and I wholly agree – we need to disconnect and find a room of our own. I get it. I\’m not having some kind of Pinterest-induced Southern Living magazine fantasy.
But LOOK at it.
Bear with me here. Let\’s say you\’re out in your backyard writing shack, in the gawdalmighty zone and typing like a best-selling fiend on the finest typewriter Remington ever made. You\’re an articulate machine gun, and you\’re thirsty for a tall glass of iced tea which should be within arm\’s reach, but is now empty. Or, you have to powder your nose. It happens.
Just then, your wife/husband/child/grandkid shouts out across the lawn and into your zone. \”Do you need anything from the store?\” they say. Or \”Hey, where are my…?\”
And it\’s gone.
The answer is to leave town, really. Move to, say, Eureka Springs and buy a sweet little house so you can live on two levels that step out upon two different streets. Better yet, win the lottery, buy the Eureka house, and tell absolutely no one what you have done. That way they can\’t follow you.
(Do click on the link and read about the house. There are more pictures, but I knew I\’d lose complete typewriter shack cred if I put them up here.)