My place to stand

I don’t mean to be away from my blog so  long and honestly, I don’t like to be away at all. I’ve come to enjoy communicating with other writers and readers in a way that is mutually stimulating for all of us. In the last couple of days I started to notice that something was missing. I took me until this morning to realise it’s because I haven’t posted in a week. I’ve been busy catching up on housework, researching for the website and entertaining three dogs – my sister is visiting with her two pooches. The house is full and loud, but the library remains halcyon. I smile bigger down here, laugh louder, write with more appreciation for the art. Some people can write any where, any time. I need a place to stand and this is it. Good things are happening now and I believe they will continue. Where do  you like to write?

Unintentionally Bohemian

I’ve added pictures of the finished library/entertainment area for anyone who is interested. You can see the gallery of before and after shots here.

The “grand” opening last night was a success and the area has proven itself as a cosy and very worthy area for entertaining small crowds. The library feels a little like a Turkish coffee house, and my guests seemed quite content to sit on the large cushions on the floor or the big reading chair of happiness. The food I made was Middle Eastern/North African themed, which was unintentional at first: cumin and cardamom are among my favourite flavours. The banquet consisted of Moroccan carrot salad, Tanzanian Pilau, potato salad, rainbow salad with dill and lemon pepper, kofka – a Persian sausage on a stick, beef kebabs, chicken kebabs with curry mayonnaise, and of course the obligatory sausage. I worked from 7am in the kitchen yesterday preparing the feast and it was worth it. It’s nice to have so many places to be creative.

From the escritoire of bibliotopia

All weekend my husband and I worked on the library, putting up walls, hanging doors, painting and doing all the fiddly bits that you think will take five minutes but end up costing you half a day. We did this through blistering heat, through a storm and with a six month old puppy dancing around our feet. I’m still working to get books shelved, and to get my workstation set up just so. The reason for the urgency is two-fold: first, working on the library, as  much as I love the toil, is taking me away from writing. Writing is my shoreline, and the further away I am from that shore the harder I have to swim to get back there. I still have a way to go before I hit the limits of this writing respite, but already I can feel that urgency a writer gets that tells her she’s swimming too far into the deep and it’s time to start the journey back to terra firma. I guess that’s why I’m here writing this post now – my molecules are demanding satisfaction from a session at the escritoire. The second reason for the urgency is that this Saturday, 5th December, is the day of the libraries “official” opening. Really it’s just an excuse to have a wee party and catch up with friends before Christmas: good company, good food and a good atmosphere.

There is a feeling in the garden and library of comfort. It has nothing of the forced silence of a university library and nor the calamity of a public library. You can eat, sing or dance in here if you want to. There’s even a pool table, great for smacking the cue ball around when the muse is being difficult, or to stimulate the blood flow when you’ve been sitting too long. I suspect I will use it when I need to “roll” thoughts around in my mind. You can pick up a musical instrument and pluck, hoot, thrum or whistle along with the eclectic styles coming through the surround sound system. And of course you can pick up a book, or several, and retreat to one of several corners to sink into the pages: there’s the huge Ontario one seater with matching Ottoman, or any of three large cushions, there’s the swinging three-seater out in the garden or cushioned benches. You can make yourself a cuppa, or grab a cold drink or biscuit. Of course I don’t imagine anyone other than myself doing too often: it is, after all, my own private playground, designed and developed to my own tastes. I suspect when I’m done, it will look more like a large curiosity cabinet than a library. I will be the eccentric writer-lady who lives under the house in a mini-museum with her crazy music and equally crazy dog.

Celebrate with music

At last! The library is all but finished. My computer is installed in its new and permanent home. All that is left to do is bring all my writing paraphernalia and of course, the books. The latter I’m savouring for tonight when it will be cooler. For a bibliphile, shelving books in their new home is a serious and contemplative time. I live every one of those books and I plan to enjoy this part of the process.

Looking around me now, as I write this, I feel as if I’ve come home. In the middle of suburbia, in a town with almost two million souls, I have found a place to retreat to, a place of reflection and seclusion, which all writers need.

For now I’m going to celebrate my new library with music. I’ll post photos soon.

The door to bibliotopia

Here it is! The door that links the library of bibliotopia to its own private garden. Naturally it has to be prettied up yet. Yesterday I worked for ten hours in the library, painting, puttying and pandering.

Before the door

After the door

Heaven for a writer

My bibliotopia is coming along nicely. The garden is complete and very soon I hope to start work on the new entrance way to the garden from the library. I’m anxious to get down there and get stuck into living like a writer – hold up in my little haven, crouched over the keyboard or with my head bent over some book.

I was down in the bibliotopia garden a few days ago, frolicking among the herbs and ferns, planting strawberries, asparagus and rosemary and for the first time in my life I thought I hope this is what heaven feels like. It was a magical moment of contentment and only those moments mattered.

A bibliotopia

It’s spring and the best time for spending quiet moments outside. This week my husband, sister and I got to work on the “secret garden” which is to be complimentary to the library we’re working on. I like to call the library and garden Bibliotopia. The library’s garden reflects the diversity of my reading, with cultural influences from across the globe. So far I have Aztec and Mayan, Balinese and Tuscan influences. The garden has a blend of flora, from herbs to native Australian shrubs, vines and ferns.

Bibliotopia: the making of a library

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I’d be turning the down stairs “entertainment area”, aka dumping ground, into a library. This morning I officially made a start by applying a treatment to the brickwork. I’ve added a page called Bibliotopia to track the progress of the library, which I expect to take anywhere from a few months to over six months (there’s a lot to do, as  you’ll see from the before shots). The perfect workspace is as important to me as knowing which words to use in a story.

A room with books or a library?

My current workspace has kept me happy for some time now, but recently my hubby and I took a tour of the area under our house where the pool table currently resides. Due to a wet summer and its continuation into winter, the brick walls have attracted fungi (we have ENSO conditions to thank for that – El Nino Southern Oscillation). As we discussed what to do about the fungi I started to imagine what the space would look like as my studio. It is large enough to hold my books and my desks, as well as the pool table, plus it has it’s own bathroom. Within minutes I was telling my husband how I’d like to turn that window into a door, lift up the lino and replace it with something nicer and warmer, erect a wall between it and the garage and treat the brickwork to some rendering to seal it from the moisture. My husband might have made one of those faces he makes when he’s anxious, but I was too busy in my fantasy studio to notice. For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamed of a library/studio lined with books, a comfy armchair and an enchanted garden just outside. I am halfway towards achieving the enchanted garden at the side of the house, but currently it is only accessible through a makeshift gate. My husband was all for the idea after visualising it himself (and perhaps seeing the benefits of relocating my writing life). We have a four bedroom house, but three of the rooms are taken up with workspace, one with my books, one with the desks and tools of writing and the other is my husband’s man room where he keeps his manly things.

Even though I spend my days staring at a 17 inch area of white screen, I like to fill the space around me with thoughtful things – and paper, lots of paper. Currently a large portion of the paper component is missing from my space. This was a choice I made some time ago to maximise both bookshelf space and workspace, but, as I suspected it would, it has left me with a feeling of being unglued. As a writer it is difficult for me to separate the acts of reading and writing. I constantly write notes while reading and read while writing. It is an immutable thread. When I am in the workspace I think about being in the library and vice versa. Though I love to lie on the sofa bed in the library with a pile of books, it feels like a room with books rather than a true collection or reading room. Books belong in hands, not collecting dust on shelves out of sight or getting compressed in boxes. They need to be opened in order to speak. And so it is with this in mind that I am seeking to create a new library/studio to house my collection and my thoughts.

External space is an allegory of the internal world. We must be as comfortable in our workspace as we are in our own minds.