When it's impossible to have a room of one's own

Get a desk

I spoke recently with the very lovely

Matt Trinetti

from London Writer’s Salon for their podcast, about the importance of claiming some space for your writing at home. It was something that came up in my conversation with

Caro Giles

who I interviewed for Home Matters, about taking up space in our own homes. I had no idea how difficult having a desk of one’s own, let alone a whole room (a la Woolf), was going to be before I had children.

My £15 Ikea desk in the front room

I was a creative freelancer for around eight years by the time I became a mother. When I first became a photographer in my twenties, I had a desk in our small, open plan live/work warehouse, which then graduated to an actual room when we bought our first tiny two bedroom flat. When one of those bedrooms was handed over to a baby, I had just the desk again. Then when another baby arrived, that space was given over to a crib and I had neither.

For the next nine years, I didn’t have a dedicated space to work at home, despite being the sole earner in the household after divorce. I carried my work around with me in a backpack, had some desk space in a co-working office or worked at the kitchen table and packed and unpacked everything constantly, including when I was writing my first book.

My eldest child is disabled and his needs shape how we use our home, in ways I could not have predicted before I had children. My equipment, even a laptop, couldn’t ever be left anywhere accessible to him, for many years longer than my younger daughter. My children have never been able to share a room. My son can’t access before or after school care, or holiday clubs, so carers must come to our house. All this means how, where and when I work has been shaped very much by his needs.

It wasn’t until after the lockdowns that I finally bought myself a desk. Years of moving my work constantly around, putting it away, carrying it on my back, including when I was writing my first non-fiction book. Nine years of always being the flexible one. I was tired of it. I bought a cheap Ikea desk, got rid of the last few toys in the living room and set my desk up there instead.

But having a desk in the living room, taking up part of the domestic space, came to symbolise so much more than a convenient place for me to work. It felt like an act of defiance. Two fingers up to all the systems that have tried so hard to get me to give up on paid work in order to be entirely in service to the unpaid work of looking after a disabled child (like the tax credit system that will happily subsidise after school and holiday clubs for non-disabled children but have no equivalent financial support for those of us paying for one to one carers for our disabled kids).

Every step of the way I have had to fight to earn an income, as my son’s services were cut, or changed and as his needs changed. The desk that sits in the corner of my living room is more than a place where I work. It is an imperfect, untidy representation of hope. It is a sign that I haven’t gone under yet. That I am more than my domestic responsibilities.

In Home Matters

Caro Giles

told me part of why her desk is important to her is so that her daughters see it. That despite the fact two of her four children cannot access school, she is making her way in the world as a writer. They can see her there, making the most of any precious hours of time she gets, creating a life for them all.

Sometimes rest of life can push in from all sides as a parent, leaving no room left for other parts of ourselves. But I would urge you, if you don’t have a room of your own, get a desk. And if you can’t make a desk work, give yourself a shelf. Find some way of claiming space in your home for your work as a writer.

Many of the writers I work with as a writing coach are not yet making a money from their words. But the ones that go on to do so, all have one thing in common. They take their writing seriously before anyone else does. That means treating it like paid work before it is paid. Giving it both time and space. Sometimes the physical space we give it can help those we live with understand it’s importance to us, as much as if we say out loud how we feel about it. And the physical space, even one as small as a shelf, can come to remind of us of what we are working so hard for. For our words to take up some space in the world too.

One day I’m hoping to have enough money to convert the loft into another bedroom and bathroom. If/when that happens, the tiny third bedroom will be freed up for me to use as an office. I’ve already decorated it in my mind. House of Hackney Hollyhocks wallpaper, built in bookshelves and a large cork board for planning books. A sturdy dark wood desk like my dad used to have (and still has) in his own home office. A small, perfectly formed writing room.

In the mean time I am content with my cheap Ikea desk in the corner of the front room. It is more than I had for many years.

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You can listen to the London Writers Salon podcast episode here - we also do a bit of a deep dive into proposal writing! And if you aren’t a member of LWS yet do check them out - for co-writing sessions, courses, events and more.