Word Spaces (16): Nick Antosca
I write in my bedroom. I have a large bedroom for New York, so I can fit a small couch in it. (My bedroom used to be half the living room, but we chopped it up when we moved in. Three people live in what was originally a one bedroom apartment.) My bed is in one corner and diagonally across from it is the black leather couch I sit on when I write (on my laptop). This is really not ergonomic, but when I used to write at a desk, with ergonomic pads in an ergonomic chair, my wrists and back hurt a lot. They don’t hurt now; I don’t know what that’s about, but that’s the way it is.
Before I had the couch in my room, I wrote the novel Midnight Picnic in the same room, but in my bed. It’s better to write sitting up, because otherwise I tend to fall asleep. It was maybe not so smart to get into the habit of writing in bed.
Also, now, the couch sits right next to my window ledge; the window is huge, and when I want to take a break, I set on the window ledge and look down at the street, which is usually completely empty except for some sort of security guard who stands there all night. (I almost always write at night.) Most of the window ledge is covered by books and clothes, some of which are visible in the pictures, but I save a spot for perching on and for setting drinks on. There is also usually a bottle of tequila or mezcal there almost always, because sometimes I get really wired when I’m writing all night, and when the sun rises, my circadian rhythm won’t let me go to sleep, so I have a few shots before I close my eyes. (That’s not a normal thing, only once or twice a month.)
I do my best writing at night; it’s the only time I can really focus, and I like having my room next to a huge window so I can see, incontrovertibly, that it is night out. Next year I’ll probably have to leave this apartment, which will be kind of a shame, but I’ve been here since I graduated from college, so… so it goes.
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