This post was originally published at Novelicious.com and is now at WritingTipsOasis.com. WritingTipsOasis.com acquired Novelicious.com in June 2022.
Blame it on watching Beauty on The Beast too many times as a child, but all my life, I've wanted a house with a library.
And, okay, maybe my house doesn't quite have the multi-story wonder of the Disney Movie (much to my dismay, it did not come with a singing teapot, either), but as soon as I saw the green library of our circa-1835 home, with dozens of built in bookshelves, an old fireplace, and what can only be described as a sitting nook, I knew I'd found my new office.
Every morning, equipped with a pot of coffee and usually two puppies (and occasionally one cat) at my heels, I head to my office and plop down at my leather desk. (Yes, my desk is entirely upholstered in a beautiful, saddle-smooth tan leather, and was both a huge indulgence and the first piece of furniture I bought for the house, before even a living room sofa or a headboard.)
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I spend hours in the library every day and yet I rarely feel restless or unhappy. I love being surrounded by the books I know and love, by the assortment of bric-a-brac I've gathered over time, like a stuffed piranha from an ex-boyfriend, an antique writing desk from my future mother-in-law, a wooden horse I bought in an antique store in Brooklyn. The whole room feels like an extension of my brain: slightly overstuffed, full of stories, bursting to reveal itself.
At night, I walk a whole dozen feet to the sitting nook, curl up with my latest read (recently, Salman Rushdie's newest), a glass of wine, and usually some cornichons I eat like potato chips straight from the jar. As the sun sets, I love seeing the windows darken to reveal the room reflected back in miniature, full of warmth and Christmas-tones, and the kind of old, worn-in comfort I associate with home.
Curiosity House: The Shrunken Head and Rooms by Lauren Oliver are out now.