location, location

I have this idea that perhaps I could write better or more often if I was in exactly the right location. I know, rationally, that it's not quite as simple as that - but I still have idealised ideas of my future writing space which I can't quite shake. I thought I'd share some which have faded and some which have stuck with me.

(1) I used to imagine myself writing novels in a traditional library all of my own:

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Red leather armchairs, smoking jacket, a flask of port, roaring fire, big dark wooden desk. Then I realised that (a) it felt a little too masculine a stereotype, and not quite cosy enough; and (b) I'd probably feel overwhelmed, surrounded by so many books. Who am I to attempt to write one?; and (c) I'd get distracted too easily.

(2) A romantic Parisian café:

You can just see it, can't you? Wearing a beret and scarf, frowning as you attempt to keep your pages of manuscript from blowing away, ink stains on your fingers, polite or not-so-polite Parisian waiters bringing you café au lait.
Then I realised that probably while I sat in this position I'd be ingesting enough nicotine to bring on a rapid demise. The streetside would probably smell. And the waiters would give me nasty looks when I stopped buying things but still sat there all day.

(3) A more literary café might do the trick. It worked for J. K. Rowling, didn't it?

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But then I realised that, as attractive as this café looks, I'd probably be surrounded by literary snobs, and I would either become one myself, or feel grossly inadequate as they talked about writers I've never heard of.

(4) For a while I considered the possibility of writing on a tropical beach, like the one I stayed on at Koh Phi Phi in Thailand a few years ago:

Imagine how pleasant it would be to write here. Maybe swinging in a hammock, lazily watching the sea.

But I think this is probably just wishful thinking. I think I would actually just become lethargic, obese and boorish. Or, I would start feeling really guilty about the way Westerners are able to come to idealised little places like this and completely ignore the Thai people, and then I would become a Communist and start writing angry protest novels.

(5) Now, this is an ideal that has stuck with me. I still feel extremely attracted to it. I first thought of it when my supervisor asked me once what I would do if someone left me enough money to survive on perfectly adequately and I didn't need to work. I decided that I would spend six months of every year in a little cottage beside a mountain lake (I imagine Lake Tekapo) writing novels, and six months in the city doing some kind of volunteer work.

This is how I imagine the cottage:

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There are no mice or rats - that's a given. There is a cosy open fire. There is a small community nearby so I'm not completely cut off from humankind. And there is a big window overlooking the lake and the mountains, with my desk in front of it. Not quite like the one below, which is too big, but you get the idea:

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Along the same lines, I can imagine myself in a Swiss village like the one below, learning German and writing novels. I think this is slightly less realistic, though!

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(6) Finally, I am absolutely sure that whenever I end up getting a house, I want there to be sloping ceilings, and a little attic room I can use for writing. I've always been attracted to sloping ceilings, for some reason. I think they're cosy and they make me want to write. So I imagine a writing space a bit like this:

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... or this:

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... or this:

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So there you have it. My ideal locations.