by kevan atteberry
As creatives—writers and illustrators specifically—most of us work
from our homes, and by ourselves. We've commandeered a tucked away niche off
the kitchen, a large closet shared with winter clothes and ski equipment, or a
corner eked out of a spare bedroom. We’ve created a place that is ours,
exclusive from other house inhabitants. Some of us even have an actual room
dedicated for writing or a studio for illustrating. I'm lucky, I suppose, to
have a space (barely) big enough for both a writing/digital art area as well as
a place for working in traditional art mediums.
Still, like so many of my solitary compatriots, when I have work to
get done, I will often pack up my laptop, sketch book, pencils and pens and abandon
the distractions of home. I’ll head out to a coffee shop, the library, or
sometimes even a pub—my satellite offices. There is something stimulating and
comfortable about the busy hum of the default world as I submerge myself into
whatever world I’m trying to create.
I have only recently been able to do this regularly due to changes
in my life and responsibilities. And I am still searching out the
place—places—that work well for me. I don’t know if others have one special
place they go or a collection of places. I have found several different spots
where I like to work. And I try to switch them up. I’ve found if I have a
particularly productive day at one location, it will become my “favorite place
to write,” or “draw.” And I’ll try and duplicate it the next time. Which is a
mistake. It rarely happens.
The next time the “busy hum of the default world” may be fractured
by a loud talker,
a loud laugher,
or a loud squealer.
The next time, the table you sat and created so proficiently and
abundantly at may be occupied. Another table probably will not have the same magic.
Sometimes people are too friendly or curious.
But there are some distinct advantages to working off-site or
remotely. I am more likely to keep my butt in my chair in front of my laptop,
or with pencil in hand. I am less likely to be distracted or hop up every ten
minutes to attend to some banal task. Not that there aren’t distractions, there
are. But distractions away from home can be different. They can have their own
curious value. Call it observation. And/or unintended eavesdropping. I’ve
dashed off quick sketches of fashion or characters I’ve seen and used them
later in illustrations. I’ve developed ideas and learned things from what I’ve
heard. I remember a particularly emphatic discussion between 3 women sitting
behind me one time on hair removal. Who knew there were so many options! I
don’t know how or where or if I’ll ever use this, but it was fascinating. The
animated delivery was funny and I learned a new girl’s name that I may use in a
story someday. And no, I am not sharing it here.
I should also mention that working off-site I’m often faced with a
distraction that is far less helpful. That is the distraction of seductive
pastries.
We’re lucky as writers and illustrators to be able to switch up our
venues, work remotely. Other artists—musicians, dancers, ceramicists—might find
it difficult to decide to go “work at Starbuck’s this afternoon.”
I have had some pretty good luck working offsite. And I truly enjoy
it. It is not automatic, and sometimes working remotely leads to remotely
working. This may be caused by not finding the “right” place, having
distractions that are compelling but not helpful, or maybe Mercury is in
retrograde. At these times I know enough to head back to the “home office.”
Because if I am going to waste time, I might as well waste it doing banal
tasks.
Full disclosure: this may be another reason why I work remotely. This is
my studio right now. I can’t seem to get much work done here because it is such
a mess and I can’t seem to clean it up because I have so much work to do.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
