Writing is thinking. For me that means silence.If you live in a busy household that's hard to find.
So you'd better have a few tricks up your sleeve.
Sometimes I escape to the garden to pick what's ripe, eat a few raspberries, pull a few weeds. Though, weeding can become as obsessive as editing, and before you know it, the day's gotten away from you, and there isn't a dandelion or a word left.
Mark Twain had it right, hunkering down in his little writing cottage. Sometimes an office just isn't enough when the house is humming. Especially if you like to jump up and down, make coffee, throw around laundry, or pluck your eyebrows, without leaving the story.
Deep conversation is the kiss of death. Sometimes even the clarification of a grocery list kills it. Hours of traveling to that certain place and time with all those wild emotions dissolves in a puff of smoke.
I'd settle for a tree fort.
Of course, I guess that wouldn't be settling.
It would be fantastic!
With a rope ladder and a trap door and a mossy vine to swing down with.
Well... you know where I'm going with this.
Writers on a deadline have been known to check into hotels. If you can't do that, jump into the car, go for a drive, find somewhere safe to park.
Hide under a bed or in a closet.
A board over the bath tub works just fine.
I'll be cheering for you.