Write Place, Write Time

Lauren Groff

Before my first son was born, my husband converted the handyman’s workshop in the garage to my office space so that I could work without hearing the bloody screams of my newborn. It is insufficiently climate-controlled, and has a spider problem. The rugs are too tired to be in the domestic sphere, and most of my books live in the house, where there’s no mold. I love my space very much. Yes, that’s a Snuggie on the desk chair.

I have an Ikea chaise longue for my naps, a treadmill for when I’m reading and walking out my angst, and an easel on which I’ve placed a blank canvas because I don’t want to embarrass myself by showing my terrible paintings.

This is the view from my desk. My winter garden now has broccoli, kale, cilantro, nasturtium, fennel and sunflowers in it.

This is a poster of my sister Sarah’s rump right before a race. She’ll be representing the United States in triathlon at the Summer Olympics in London in August. Please cheer for her. This is the small version of a huge poster that was hanging all over Kitzbühel, Austria. I have a picture of the real-life 5-foot-8-inch Sarah goosing her 10-foot avatar somewhere. I keep the poster in my office for perspective: no matter how much pain my writing brings me, I think of the actual physical pain my sister is subjecting herself to and I remember that I’m a total softy wimp who is lucky to be weeping over words.

Someone gave me this butterfly because I love Nabokov. The art is graphite, thread, and ink, and done my by extremely talented neighbor, Erin Curry. I love them because they’re beautiful, but also because they look like ladyparts and make me laugh.

When things aren’t going well, I talk to Buddha. My mother gave me the paperweights. Throughout the morning, I move them around my desk to catch the light.

Lauren Groff’s second novel, Arcadia, was published on March 13th. She lives in Gainesville, Florida with her husband and two little boys.