Day 12: A room of my own

Stolen from WebMD

While I wish I could write about vaginas every day, that's not very realistic, is it? Not everyone wants to read about vaginas. I've been told so. One old friend unfriended me on Facebook because I shared my blog posts about vaginas there. So tonight I shall gaze at my belly button, and you may join me if you'd like. Virtually, of course. It's too cold to sit around with my shirt up. Not that anybody wants to see that anyway!

Here we go. Have you ever had an idea that simply won't leave you alone? You poo poo it and send it away, but it simply won't give up? I have an idea like that. It has come to me in different forms, but it's still basically the same idea: I want a room of my own.

That probably sounds strange coming from a person who has an entire house. I have nine rooms of my own, not including bathrooms. One of them is an office, of sorts. It's where my desktop computer lives, as well as a work laptop for tech editing jobs. It's not a room that inspires creativity, I have to admit. I'm not sure why, but it doesn't.

And I have this living room where I'm sitting now. I have my laptop on my lap and the fireplace going on Netflix. I write most of my blog posts here, and I also do my watercolors here. It's inspiring enough, I suppose, but it's not my creative space.

I also have a dark dining room, which is where right now I have another art station set up for doing mixed media and abstract art. I hate using my dining room, because by the time my eight-year-old granddaughter Coraline and I both get out our art supplies, it looks like mess. Added to that, I store my art supplies under and around a small antique drop-leaf table, so even when it's all put away, it's still .... there. I hate the visual chaos. It's like a small stone in my shoe.

However even in this big house, I simply don't have a space where I can store and use art supplies, and were I can go to write with no other distractions. I want a room of my own.

A couple of years ago the house next door to me went on the market. I got excited because it had been empty for at least four years, a rental before that, and I thought it would go cheap. Turns out the owner was upside down on her mortgage and couldn't sell it for what I thought it was worth. And when I got a chance to look inside it, it was far rougher than I'd expected. It took almost six months for the new owners to rehab it. I had no desire to take on such a project.

My plan had been to make it into my creative space and a writers/artists retreat. Maybe rent out studio space in the bedrooms. Hold the bootcamps for writers/artists that I don't do enough of here in my own house there. Take out the fence between the two properties and have a decent yard instead of just a dog toilet. It wasn't a reasonable dream on my income though.

The idea left me alone for a while. Then my mom passed away a little over a year ago. At first I thought she had left a small inheritance, one that I could use to rent a studio in one of the converted factories near my house. I wouldn't have had to use all of it, and I think my mom would have loved the idea.

Turned out my youngest sister got to Mom's money first and ended up owing the estate far more than she was able or willing to pay back. After over 14 months we still haven't probated the will. By the time it happens, the lawyers and the executor will probably get more than any of the rest of us. And that's the way that goes. I can't let the loss of that money create yet another burden in my life, so I just try not to think about it. But the idea won't go away. It's like one of those flies that keeps landing on your head and won't leave you alone no matter how much you swat at it. Or a stray cat you fed that keeps coming to your door hoping for more. Or those last five ten twenty pounds .... well, you get the idea.

And that's how I think of the idea. It's a bother. I don't really think I deserve an office space or a studio. I'm not a good artist; I just like to do it. I'm a pretty good writer, but I spend my time writing these blog posts that will never bring in an income. I doubt anybody would be interested in supporting it if I put this blog or any other behind a paywall like Patron. I've always wanted to write books, and friends have cajoled me to do it as well, but do you know how hard it is to get a book published? And would those same friends actually buy my book? My doubts are usually enough to push the idea away.

A few months ago though my friend Chicken Grrrl, who is an amazing artist, rented one of those spaces to share with some friends who play together in a jazz/blues trio. And the idea came back even stronger. Like a regret waiting to happen.

So I'm thinking about it again. And what I'm thinking is that maybe I could commit to renting the cheapest space I can find -- $300-400/ month EEEK! -- for one year. Just one year. I could move my art supplies out of my dining room and keep the mess there in its own place. I could focus on writing without the nagging of chores that need to be done at home. And during that year I would commit to writing that brings in some income. Hint: It's not this blog. And do art simply because I love to do it, but it creates too much chaos in my house. And the goal would be to bring in at least enough income after a year to pay for the studio. Or I might find out I don't have it in me to make even a small income from writing and art, and then I would finally know and I could give up.

I worry though. I worry that I wouldn't be able to spend enough time there. Being a single parent and working several part-time jobs takes most of my time. Am I kidding myself that I could give enough of what's left of myself to make it worth the money it would cost? I could do a lot of other things with what that studio would cost for a year. Or would it be like the stacks of books I buy or check out at the library that I never get to? Would it sit there cold and lonely while I'm at my jobs and Girl Scouts and piano lessons and car pool and vet appointments and grocery shopping and ... ? I'm afraid it would.

Have you ever had an idea that wouldn't leave you alone? One that is so appealing and yet feels like a risk too big? I need some stories about taking the risk, whether it worked out or not. Or I need for this idea to go away for good.

Thanks for looking at my belly button with me. To be honest, after writing this out, I'm left with two thoughts about this first-world problem. One, it doesn't seem like a good idea. And two, I should have written about vaginas. But it's 1:00 am and my alarm clock goes off early in the morning.

Thanks for listening.