Having a room of one’s own is acclaimed as that magic elixir to writing and creativity. There’s no doubt that some amount of silence and solitude sounds blissful, but it is no guarantee for brilliant books. Charles Bukowski clarifies that in this poem:

”– you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have
a place and the time to
create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

(via BrainPickings.org)

I have always worked in the dining area that conveniently sits between the living room and the kitchen. I did not have a room of my own till my first book was published.

After that, for a few years, I had an office room with a door that was never shut. It was always open for kids and others to walk in with queries and troubles. Also, that room was beside the kitchen and connected to the living room. So, apart from a wall and a door, it wasn’t much different from my usual working zone.

Deep Work?

Then, I read Deep Work by Cal Newport where he stresses the importance of having a space where you can remain undisturbed for a few hours every day. He stresses putting away the mobile phone while engaging in deep work. While the concept sounds amazing to read in a book, it was written without paying any heed to mommy authors.

Though all the notifications on my phone are permanently off, I never shut down my phone. I never ever miss answering a call. What if my children were trying to reach me? What if my parents, who live away in another country, were trying to call me? My phone is beside me, on full volume, always. I am reachable whether I am writing or sleeping.

I don’t have the luxury of putting away my phone like some of my male counterparts who could escape into their writing dens while their wives battled household and parenting responsibilities. Filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki, the founder of Studio Ghibli, casually mentions that he left family affairs and the raising of his children to his wife. He focused all his energy and attention on producing his films. His wife, a fellow artist, and animator quit her career to take care of the kids, upon his insistence. I am sure she never turned off her phone if she had one.


Illustration by Archana Sarat

 

The Mommy Author's Writing Den

Cal Newport has been writing about the writing dens of famous writers in his newsletter. He mentions that George Lucas built a private writing tower in his new home, a rambling Victorian house, which was purchased using the earnings from his movie, American Graffiti. It was in this tower that Lucas spent most afternoons, for the next two years, working hard on the script of his next movie which became ‘The Star Wars’. Cal Newport also talks about Eoin Colfer, the Irish author, who converted a shed in his garden into a writing den. It was here that he wrote his successful Artemis Fowl book series.

When I learn about these male writers with private sheds in the backyard, I’m amazed at how easy it is for them to shirk their responsibilities and carry on with their work peacefully without another thought about home or their kids. However, for me, things aren’t so simple.

I need to know the kids are fed, the house is cleaned, homework assignments are completed, and everyone is happy and satiated. If I’m cut off from home with no idea about what’s happening back there, I’d go mad with worry. I’d be wringing my hands and pulling out my hair. That’s not the ideal way to create in peace.

I can’t stand a room of my own. My table has been placed in such a way that I have a view of the kitchen and the living room. I can hear the doorbell and the blasting television. I can monitor open laptop screens and check the food-laden plates. I know when to scream at exceeding screen-time limits, green vegetables being sneaked away to the dustbin and sibling rivalries that start getting physical.

Among the comfort of this domestic bliss, I can create.

Without it, I would be crippled.

But, what about creativity and productivity?

A room of one's own is a hyped-up concept. Though a calm and focused mode can help a writer to write more, it is no guarantee for brilliant ideas and groundbreaking creativity.

Richard Wesley Hamming, the American mathematician whose contributions have had an important impact in computer engineering and telecommunications, talks about how some scientists work with the door open while some close their doors. The scientists, who had their doors closed, were more productive but the open-door scientists did much more important work.

Despite all this, there are days when I want a few silent, undisturbed hours to myself. There are days when I wake up before the household or stay up after everyone goes to bed just to be able to hear my thoughts. However, most days, I don on noise-cancelling headphones and zone out right in the midst of all the pandemonium.

Because, baby, air and light, and time and space have nothing to do with writing. Don't listen to people who tell you that words need a room of one's own. They only need a mind of one's own. As Charles Bukowski said, if you're going to create, you're going to create no matter what.

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