I’m very particular when it comes to the ordering of my writing room. I’ve been back in my studio for nearly two weeks, and have been spending a lot of my spare-and not so spare-time tweaking the hell out of my surroundings. I’m not interested in perfection, which is too bad; that would be remarkably easier to achieve! Oh, I have all of the big basics in place-modern IKEA desk, vintage chair, shelves, design and storage space. What I’m looking for is more along the lines of the “I’ll know it when I see it/feel it” school of aesthetic and psychological satisfaction. I’m creeping closer to that amorphous goal by the day, one kooky tchotchke or inspirational magazine clipping at a time. Anything more committal and I feel like I’m slogging through molasses. My goal? To see a strange, beautiful and rotating array of images and words, books and art whenever I glance up from my keyboard, fingers fleetingly paused mid-stroke before they fall, deftly yet heavily, in service to another sentence. To be cocooned by creativity. That’s happiness.