Richard Fenwick and His Writing Space

Ah, the writing space. For me, it’s not a physical location, but a a blank page and a mindset, where creativity squeaks out and where (when I’m lucky) poetry gets recorded. Even on those days I don’t feel productive, as long as I pay attention to the combination, something creative happens. Perhaps not something worth sharing, but something. When I fail creatively, it’s almost always because I’m not paying attention to an element of my writing space, which is the teacher waiting patiently for her student to pay attention.

I’m going to take the high road and focus on location, which is easier to define. Where I write depends on the time of day, but it begins late at night. I write in a leather journal with a number-two pencil, a free write of stanzas (for some reason) where my mind bounces from one thought to another without regard for style or meaning. A smudge on the window becomes a sparrow, the sparrow flies to Karachi, where an exotic woman pounds a bronze kettle drum. That sort of writing. It’s creative, and it moves in weird, wonderful ways. All I ask is that I write whatever comes, and that I use an occasional concrete noun. Within 30 minutes, when the ideas have subsided to a trickle, I put it all away and switch off the lamp. This is how my poetry begins, simmering in a journal as I sleep.

In the early morning, my writing space is the couch and laptop, with last night’s journal entry open nearby and a cat butted up against my leg. I pluck at the journal’s imagery and ideas, try to tie them in more logical patterns. This is where I start considering poetic form, when I’m crispier (mornings I’m crispy!) and as the sun peeks over the Rincon Mountains. No television, no music, just the absolute silence of a Sonoran morning.

For a long time, my writing space was an oversized desktop computer in my office, where I would sit too long, waiting for something creative to emerge. I bought a laptop, and soon realized that the “office-bound poet” concept had actually stifled me. The office was a fixed space with no options. Now, I can place my laptop on a rug and lie down in front of it, or take it back to bed with me, or to the kitchen table. I love freehand writing, but I prefer organizing what I’ve written in my journals with a computer. The laptop has flooded me with writing-space options that were never available before.

Writing space is where an open mindset meets a page, physically or virtually. Whatever it takes, the space has to be comfortable, and has to be in a setting conducive to creativity. For now, my writing space works, but I’m ever-open to experimentation. That’s key, finding what works while being able to experiment with newer writing spaces. And if all of that fails, let the cat butt up against you as you write in the early morning; inspiration often comes in furry packages.

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Richard Fenwick is a poet and Russian translator. His poetry has been published in various journals worldwide. As an Air Force Russian linguist, he flew reconnaissance missions during the Cold War. Richard lives in Tucson, Arizona, where he translates Holocaust survivor histories. His first poetry collection, Around the Sun Without a Sail, will be published in 2012.

Tags: guest post, poems, Poetry, writing, writing spaces