From this second story window… I can hear the church bells calling out my name. This table is set for one.

I’ve been writing a long, long time. But one thing I’ve noticed is I write better and more often when I’m in the right space. It used to be the 4th floor of the library in the stacks where I created some of my better stories, but since I’m no longer visiting Halifax like I used to, I’ve been trying my best to create my own little writer’s nook. A place where I can easily escape from my writer’s block and just allow myself to create. It may not look like much, but it’s all my own. And it’s the home of many a story brewing.

Not even going to lie, but I’m a bit of a pack rat. I also have a bit of an Hello, Kitty obsession.

My writer’s nook: computer, pictures, baby naming book, little red diary, and a heck of a lot of pens (among other things).

Where else would you find Andy Warhol and Queen Amidala? Also pictured: random nailpolish colors, blue rose ring, a whole lot of flowers, hand cream, and empty diet soda bottles.

Prized possessions: my grandmother’s obituary, along with a picture of her when she was my age (my Mom thinks I look just like her in it), a post card from Laura in London, and a letter Ev’yan sent me last year (along with a gorgeous necklace.)

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