A Tour of My Desk

... and what I've learnt about working from home

My shelves with precious things on them (photo Richard Bratby).

I described a while ago the general chaos of our office and the shelving project whereby we gained both space and sanity after the deadening fall of a wooden hippo. I am a neat worker and visual things matter to me, which is why it’s been such a relief to have things in a more organised state. Both of us spend a lot of time in the office - I usually get up at 6.30am to get some reading done before I go to work, and since we had the shelves put in, I have chosen to sit at my desk in the office instead of downstairs in the lounge.

Very important to me are the objets d’art on my shelves which I call ‘Household Gods’, as Rudyard Kipling did (George in the Mapp and Lucia novels preferred the term ‘biblelots’ and I don’t know what Freud called his, but he had a LOT). Anyway, some of mine can be seen in the photo above: a jointed wooden Shakespeare doll towering over a reproduction of the James Joyce statue in Trieste. A knitted Brownie doll made for me by my mother and a photograph of myself with my parents on my graduation day.

I also have two Staffordshire figures: one of Shakespeare, which was hastily removed once Rusty decided to get on the shelf, and another of my hero David Garrick, which my husband calls the ‘tortellini Garrick’ (pictured below). The shelf in front of me - which you can’t see - is dedicated to the architect John Vanbrugh and contains a model of the Constantine Arch in Rome. I also have a porcelain statue of the 18th-century actress Peg Woffington, various small cat sculptures and a Buddhist daruma doll - which I wrote about here.

The great man’s desk and his bibelots, Freud Museum London (Wikimedia Commons).

I’m not sure why I’m so attached to these things, but I really missed them during the interregnum, when we had no shelves and all my books were on the floor. The only thing I am requiring now is some strip lighting to go under the bookcases, in order to throw more light onto my desk.

The ‘tortellini Garrick’ with my collection of books about the actor (photo: Annette Rubery).

Working from Home

I think many non-writers have a romantic view of writing, but for those engaged in it, it doesn’t look remotely like lying on a chaise longue with a notebook and a fountain pen charged with violet ink. I know a lot of would-be writers like to picture themselves in cute cafes with a latte and some banana bread, but this never works for me (too much hassle carrying my computer, getting on the internet and too expensive). Instead, here are some pratical tips:

• Create a routine: What you want is something utterly predictable. You are going to sit in the same place every day; your computer will be ready to be switched on and your reference books will be handy. It will take a few weeks to really establish the routine, but if you stick to it, it will feel weird NOT to be writing. You might also like to create a word-count goal, but know that it’s a delicate balance between having a goal and not beating yourself up all the time for not hitting it.

• Create a friction-less working environment: Because I have to swap between the computer I use for my writing and the one I use for my day job, I keep my wires in a spring cable-holder so that I can reach them quickly. I purchased a second cable for my work computer, which means I can take it to the office without having to disturb my home set-up (the last thing I want to do is crawl under my desk on a weekly basis, swapping cables). I also use a completely quick and intuitive piece of writing software: Google Docs. I have set it up to fire up every time I open my browser, it saves my work as I go along and I can export it into Word format. The only downside is that the word-counting function does not include footnotes. Not ideal for non-fiction writers, but then, nothing is perfect.

• Get focussed: I am lucky in that my husband is also a writer and understands that we need unbroken periods of concentration. We both employ headphones (I listen to binaural beats and occasionally Handel operas). If you have family members who do tend to interrupt you, all I can say is follow Virginia Woolf’s advice and find a “room of one’s own” - specifically with a door you can shut. If that’s not possible, try your local library. You will have the hassle of setting up your computer, but this is a small price to pay for focussed time when you can get into a flow state (do take ear plugs though - some libraries can be surprsingly noisy). Another good practice is to leave your phone in another room, to avoid the temptation of checking social media - or use an app like Forest.

• Eat the frog: some of you may know this productivity tip, attributed to Mark Twain, who is supposed to have said “If it’s your job to eat a frog, it’s best to do it first thing in the morning.” The point is to do the hard thing first. I find this useful in my day job - with tasks I might put off - but in a writing context I usually try to clear the mundane household tasks before I sit down. This sometimes means getting up earlier, but there’s nothing worse than having to break off because of some crisis, such the realisation that you have no food. I haven’t found a solution for the interruptions of the postie, which always feel a bit like the man from Porlock. Again, nothing is perfect.

• Finally, don’t forget to excercise: I am TERRIBLE at this, but as Margaret Atwood points out, you need a good chair and the good sense to look after your back or you’re not going to be writing anything. I did pilates during lockdown, but perhaps you want to follow the example of Haruki Murakami and run or swim every day. Of his daily routine, he told The Paris Review: “The repetition itself becomes the important thing; it’s a form of mesmerism. I mesmerize myself to reach a deeper state of mind”. Amen to that.