Every writer dreams of a perfect place to create—a serene room, sunlit and silent, lined with books and perhaps scented faintly with coffee. It’s a romantic image, one shared by legends like Hemingway, Anne Rice, or Stephen King, who each had their signature sanctuaries. But for the majority of writers juggling jobs, families, and daily chaos, that ideal remains out of reach. And maybe that’s okay.
In truth, the writer’s workspace isn’t always a room with a view or even a room at all. Sometimes, it’s the front seat of a parked car. Other times, it’s a corner of the kitchen table cleared just long enough to set down a laptop. What matters most isn’t the aesthetics—it’s the intention.
The Myth of the Quiet Room
For years, I clung to the idea that I needed a dedicated office to write. I waited for life to calm down, for my kids to grow older, for a room to magically become available. During that time, I wrote very little. I told myself I couldn’t begin until I had the where figured out.
But the truth finally struck: quiet, uninterrupted writing time is a unicorn. If I was serious about writing, I had to write in the spaces between life—not wait for it to pause.
I wrote my first full novel—80,000 words of historically inspired romance—without a traditional workspace. No private office. No ambient Spotify playlist. Just me, some notebooks, and time I carved out between diaper changes and grading essays. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked. And that changed everything.
A Shift in Mindset
One year later, two events would shape my writing path. My husband offhandedly suggested I try writing something more accessible—something for the young adults I teach. Shortly after, a dream ignited a new idea that evolved into an entire series: Children of the Psi.
This time, I knew better. I stopped waiting for perfection and started seeking possibility.
Sometimes I sat on the bedroom floor, laptop balanced on my knees while my toddlers played nearby. Other days, I typed frantically during lunch breaks or huddled in the quiet of a parked car after school. I found creativity in the chaos and strength in simply showing up—wherever I could.
Time Isn’t Given. It’s Made.
When people hear I’ve published books, many respond, “I’ve always wanted to write a book.” They’re not alone. According to various surveys, around 80% of Americans share that dream. Yet less than 1% actually do it. Why? One word: time.
But here’s the secret—no one has time to write. We make it. We choose it. Whether it’s ten minutes before the kids wake up or thirty minutes before bed, writing becomes possible when we treat it like a priority instead of a luxury.
My favorite trick? Writing sprints. I set a timer for 10 or 15 minutes and challenge myself to write as many words as I can, without editing or second-guessing. Sometimes I use voice-to-text tools on my phone while walking or commuting. And sometimes I sneak off to a coffee shop just for the change in atmosphere. But always, I show up.
“Butt in Chair” – The Writer’s Mantra
Writers, repeat after me: “Butt in chair.” That’s your mantra. That’s your workspace.
You don’t need silence, a Pinterest-worthy desk, or hours of uninterrupted solitude. You need to write. Wherever, whenever. Every single word you write builds the muscle of your creativity, the confidence in your voice, and the momentum to keep going.
Even if you’re a teacher or a parent with no time and all the responsibilities—especially then—your words still matter. You just have to believe they do.
Creating Space for the Next Generation
As an English teacher, I’ve seen how curriculum pressure has slowly squeezed out the joy of writing from classrooms. Students are often limited to evidence-based essays about other people’s stories. Their own voices? Sidelined.
But over the last year, I’ve noticed a hopeful shift. Teachers are starting to bring creative writing back into the fold—poetry, storytelling, and free writing are reemerging. In my own classes, I’ve reclaimed “Free Write Fridays,” giving students space to explore their own ideas, genres, and voices. The result? Stronger writing, better reading comprehension, and a deeper classroom community.
Students who learn to write creatively understand the why behind an author’s choices. They connect emotionally to texts. And when they share their work, they’re not just practicing writing—they’re practicing courage.
A Writer’s Workspace, Redefined
So, if you’re waiting for that magical workspace or that perfect moment, stop. Instead, find your version of a writer’s sanctuary—however imperfect it may be. A bench at the park. A table at Panera. A corner of the living room.
Make peace with the mess. Write between the chaos. Let your words live where life happens.
And when you do, you’ll discover that the real writer’s workspace isn’t a place. It’s a commitment.
It’s wherever your story begins.
