― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own
I am extremely lucky to have the former (enough, anyway), but I've never really had a room of my own to write fiction. I had a desk in a basement before moving to Russia, and that was good enough for me. But since we've moved, I haven't had anywhere to escape to write. I had visions of finding a cozy little cafe to write in a couple of times a week, but I never found what I was looking for, and the computer in our bedroom just isn't conducive to working (especially when I have a small boy running in and out every five minutes).
But a couple of weeks ago, my friend introduced me to an adorable cafe near my house that serves wine, chocolate, tea, and coffee (a pretty fabulous combo, I think you'll agree), and on Monday I had a chance to go there and write for a few hours. It was so quiet and pleasant, with delicious tea for a couple of dollars, and the waiter speaks English, bless his heart. So I made a decision that, until this novel is finished, I'm going to try to go there a couple of days a week to write. Between 5,000 words Monday and 1,500 today (not bad for an hour), I think this little escape will be just what I need.
Not exactly a room of my own, but not too shabby. And hey, this one even comes with chocolate.