The Moroccan Room (A wiriter's retreat)

I think every writer longs for a space to call their own, a quiet corner where they can work undisturbed, but few have the luxury of having one. Often, hours for writing are eeked out after the household goes to bed or in the wee hours of the morning before everyone rises.

So writers take their laptops and learn to adjust to the hustle and bustle of a coffee shop atmosphere or they hide away in a quiet corner of the local library for those few hours they need to connect with their muse.

I was having a hard time finding a place to escape. I need solitude. I am too much of a people person to be in a coffee shop without striking up a conversation. I can’t stand the solitude of a library – as much as I adore reading. And, there was no peace at home. My elderly father who lives with me rises before I do and goes to bed long after I have retired. In the time between he has become addicted to the T.V. since mom passed two and a half years ago. The volume is set at an ear-ringing level due to his hearing loss, which seems to be something we cannot correct to his satisfaction.

Hence, I had a dilemma. My writing had come to a standstill, until I came up with the idea of converting the back deck into a writing/reading room. That was last summer, and this summer it was completed. 

Dad is always game for a project. He and our Jack-of-all-trades, Amos, covered the deck with a solid roof on one end and a corrugated plastic roof with lattice on the other. They screened it in, then when fall descended on us last week they completed glassing it in. 

I decided to decorate it in jewel tones and the more I worked on it, the more it became known as the Moroccan Room. It is plush to the point of opulent. It is wired for lights, the soothing sound of the bubble pot, music, heater (to chase the fall chill away), and laptop. The Wifi even agreed to work for me in my quiet retreat.

The kids from school joke and call it my hookah lounge. It has been referred to as the Harem room. I have had many offers from friends who want to move in. It has been a hit with everyone. For me, it is my retreat…my quiet place…my muse who happens to be a heavy set guy with a full beard and a head full of wild black hair loves it. He has taken up permanent residence in the chair in the corners, tea glass in hand with his feet propped up on a pile of plush pillows.