Monday, February 15, 2021

writing, writing room, writing in silence, Stephen King
                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Photo: Kristina Flour 
DAMN THAT OL' STEPHEN KING

After having breakfast, I warm up a cup of Guatemalan coffee and head upstairs to work.  I check LinkedIn, Pinterest, and Twitter and then dive into composing blogs, fine-tuning query letters, and editing manuscripts.  But when it's noisy, my productivity slams to a halt.  It's frustrating because I have little control over loud sounds.  I can't force people to refrain from mowing their lawns.  I can't keep neighbor's dogs from barking.  

My husband has a good idea how sensitive I am to noise, so he tries to keep the volume down when he practices the guitar.  But when the Pittsburgh Steelers are on television, he cheers for them or more likely, he shouts at them.  If you're a fan you'd understand.  It's nearly impossible to be quiet (especially this season) while watching the Steelers. 

When it's noisy during my work hours, I always think of Stephen King.  King writes in a room on the top floor of a Victorian mansion outside of Bangor, Maine, lit by skylights and filled with shelves of books.  He has a big desk and a cozy chair.  I imagine it's free of distractions.  I imagine it is very quiet. 

My writing place (the guest bedroom) is comfortable and convenient.  But unlike King's room, I do not have bookshelves or skylights.  And it is not always quiet—especially when it snows.  

A few days ago, we received a sprinkling of snow.  My husband was inspired to get outside and remove it.  If it had been more than four inches, he would have used the snow blower.  But since we only accumulated a couple of inches, he opted for the snow shovel.  He began on the driveway and to most people it was not that loud, but it pulled me away from writing and I focused on the rhythmic sound of shoveling, the scraping of metal on concrete, and though I appreciated him clearing the snow, I hoped that the job would soon be finished and then all I thought about was Stephen King—up in his study merrily composing his best-selling novels IN COMPLETE SILENCE.  Damn that ol' Stephen King.  

It's kind of a drag to be sensitive to noise.  But this is the way I'm wired.  In my younger days, I had to have peace and quiet when doing homework.  The need for silence is still the case and it has stuck with me throughout my adult life.  There's no escaping it.  Not even ear plugs work.  I have to try to suck it up and deal with it.   

Luckily, for most of the year, the neighborhood is quiet and the Mrvos household is calm.  Ah...I savor the serenity.  When it's tranquil, still and hushed, I am writing away in my writing room, working away in complete blissful silence, totally in the groove.  I am focused and oh so productive.  All is good and Stephen King is never on my mind—unless the weather turns wintry and we're in for two inches of snow.  

✌ and 




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