my mobile writing studio

The best place for me to think about my book is driving in the car. It’s always been that way. I’m not sure why. All the better if I happen to be driving through a rural area with open fields, away from the hustle and bustle of town and traffic. The open space unlocks something in me. I feel free out there on the open road.

I’ve always loved driving. Maybe it’s the motion, the scenery zooming by. The anticipation of whats-around-the-next-corner.

When I was a kid, we often “went for a drive” after dinner. Just to see the sights. Sometimes we’d stop for ice cream or some other treat, but mostly we’d just drive. I of course, was always hopeful that I’d see a horse, any horse, in a field by the road. And maybe that’s the emotion that driving elicits in me still. Hope.

Then, there was always an undercurrent of excitement around our drives through the countryside. If I did see a horse, would it be a tall black horse with a long mane, a chubby pinto pony, a “lucky, lucky white horse”? Would my dad pull over? Would the horse come up to the fence to say hi? I’d trail my fingers out the window of our red VW Rabbit, feel the push of the wind, smell the sweet fragrance of cut grass or hay, and dream.

Now, I think driving still helps to put me in that dream state. The one where I can be with Jacy and Travis and Olivia. I can be in Iowa even though I’m in Massachusetts.

Maybe one day I’ll realize the dream of having my own little farm, and I won’t have to drive in the car to look out at beautiful open fields. I’ll just step out the back door.

Finding a place where you work well is so important for a writer. And I think I’ve found mine. It’s in my car. My good little car. My trusty Toyota Corolla with 296,000 miles on her. She’s old but she’s not dead yet. (I hope she sticks around till the book’s done and I get some kind of advance!)

I’ve taken to heading out with my yellow writing pad and pens, driving for a while, and finding a good place to park. With windows on all four sides, it’s better than any desk. And Boca contentedly snoozing in the back seat, happy, knowing we’ll go for a walk after I’m done scribbling. It’s great. I don’ t know why I didn’t think of it sooner.

My own private mobile writing studio.

And the hope and excitement and anticipation of whats-around-the-next-corner that came to me as a child on those drives with my family, comes to me now again while I’m writing.

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